The 67th Hunger Games
by torystory93
Summary: "As the platform rises, I see a charming little town. There's a school, houses, shops, and a small little park. Looks can be deceiving though, an I know that once the games start, this town won't be charming at all," This is the story of the tributes of the 67th Hunger Games, 23 lives will end too shortly, and one life will be forever broken. Who will emerge victorious? SYOT CLOSED
1. Prolouge

"Please, just give it a chance Mr. President," I say, my voice tense "These games will be unforgettable! I promise! Just because the arena will take place in a town doesn't mean the games will be less meaningful! Please my famil-"

"I couldn't care less about your family, Mr. Lancaster" the president says coldly, "What I care about is keeping the districts in-line! If the arena is in a town, I ask you, than how will we show them that is a games take place in a perfectly nice town?"

"It will be good, I promise" I say.

"It better be, or you family, we be worse off than before," Snow says slowly gets up, and then slams the door in my face.

**How did you like it? If you are interested in submitting a tribute, the form is on my profile, along with the tribute list. Sorry but I only take entries though PM.**


	2. The Gamemakers Conference

I'm standing in-front of the most powerful people in the capitol. I can feel my arms shaking.

"Um, so if you'll look up towards the monitor, you will see the plan for the arena," I say. I move my hands upward. "The arena this year will take place inside a town," I hear one person groan. I know I have to keep going. "Inside the cornucopia, there will be, along with weapons, and other supplies, there will be several keys, each key unlocks a car, which then the tributes can drive." I look around, a several people are nodding their heads.

I've done well.

**Yeah, these are just until the reaping's start. Thanks for everyone who submitted so far, and remember you can submit three tributes! **:)


	3. Who is the new gamemaker? Sponser Syste

I wait, my hands again shaking. President snow makes the final decision as to whether or not I will be named the Head Gamemaker. All eyes are on him.

"I like it," he says with a cold cruel smile, " Mr. Landcaster, I name you Head Gamemaker ! Congratulations!" I can hear everyone cheering, and for a moment, I finally feel proud of my actions.

**Hi, so now I'm introducing the sponsor system:**

**1. I'll keep track of the points, and the list will be posted on my profile.**

**2. I will later post the items you can get for your tribute(s)**

**How to Earn Points:**

**Submit a tribute-15 points**

**Review- 3 points**

**Follow Story- 2 points**

**Follow author-4 points**

**Favorite Story-7 Points **

**Favorite Author- 9 points**

**Bye for now, there will be more ways to earn points later!**


	4. District One Reapings

**_Yay! The first Reaping! It just so happens to be District One!_**

_Ruby Shine POV:_

_"_Mom! I'm off to piano lessons!" I yell. Without waiting for a reply, I bend down, grab my 'music' bag, and rush out the door. I can't be late. Not today. You see, I'm not going to piano lessons. I'm going to my most favorite place. The District One Training Center for Aspiring Tributes. Mom and dad said no. They love to watch the games, but have never wanted me to train. So, I came here in secret, learning and practicing new skills that will be useful to me in the games. I discovered, among other things, that I have a knack for dueling swords. The reason? I'm quick, brave smart, and no one can beat me.

Finally, I'm here. They have decorated the training center with streamers for reaping day. I can't wait, today the trainers will announce which tributes they would like to volunteer for the games this year. I want it so badly to be me. I'm extremely tired of watching district one female after district one female, come to a dreadful end. I can finally show those idiotic others how it's done. I'm pretty well-known around here even without being in the games. My father is the mayor of District One, so pretty much everyone knows me.

I can see it now, me up on that District Square stage, next to my father as he reads the Treaty of Treason.

Maybe he will actually smile this time.

I run into the locker room, change out of the ugly black shirt, and white skirt my mother gave me to wear for piano lessons, and I change into my training outfit. It's just a plain black shirt, and plain black pants, but I love it nonetheless. I put my strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail and-

"OH GOD!" I yell. My best friend Ashley is standing behind me with the stupidest grin on her face. "You scared me half to death" I yell but I can't hide my grin. Ashley may look small, but she's extremely lethal. She's a wiz at throwing spears, and she never, ever misses.

"Oh, please," she says. "I had to give you a little scare, after all your going to be gone for like four weeks!"

"Huh?" I ask, like I don't know what she's talking about.

"Come on Ruby! Everyone knows your going to be the pick for this years tribute," she says groaning.

"Yeah, I know," I say sheepishly.

"And besides I'll probably be picked next year, and then our district can have two victors in a row! How great will that be?" I don't know actually, of- course if Ashley entered the games, I would want her to come back, but a nagging part inside of me wants to be the only District One tribute for winner for years. But instead, I shake the idea from my head, and I just smile brightly. We exit the locker room, and start running laps together around the track. After that we split up, I go to the dueling station, and Ashley goes to spear throwing. Before long, it's time for the big announcement. All the trainers face all of the potential tributes and announce the names,

I know it's got to be me. Who else would it be?

"For the girls, we have decided that Ruby Shine will participate in this years Hunger Games!" Everyone cheers, and I feel like a could cry out of happiness. I don't of- course.

"Now, for the boy. We have decided that we want Chase Pinestone to volunteer," The crowd cheers, and I look at who will be my competition. He is tall, muscular, and looks extremely attractive with his bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. I can't help but be attracted to him. Twenty minutes later, I'm walking back to my house with a huge secret.

I can't tell my parents I'm going to volunteer without them shutting the whole thing down.

As soon as I walk in, my little sister, Glitter, pounces on me and says, " Ruby, are you ready for the reaping?"

"Not, quite yet!" I say cheerily.

"You're supposed to be scared! Not happy! Glitter says as I slam the door in her face. I undress, and get into my reaping outfit, a red sparkly dress that hugs my curves. I love it, it's the dress of victory. My mother helps me curl my hair, and loans me her beautiful red high heels.

I feel truly beautiful.

We walk to the reaping, and I can't get the nervous feeling from my belly. I'm excited, of-course, but nervous too. Would if someone volunteers before me? Then I'll never have a chance to be in the games. I check in, and I'm ready to roll. I spot Ashley in the row behind me, and I smile brighty.

"Welcome, Welcome,Welcome! It is now time to pick our female tribute. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Glodia Belle says winking towards the camera. She's the district one escort, and even though I can't stand the capital fashions, my mother loves following them so I guess I'm used to it. She walks over to the female reaping ball, and pulls out a name.

"Ali-"

"I volunteer! I scream at the top of my lungs. I reach the stage and see my father, and my mother's horrified faces.

All I can think, is that I'm ready to dominate.

_Johnny Landcaster POV_

My hands shake as I hold the letter from my father. It's worn and a little worse for wear. Like someone had a difficult time sending it. I can just imagine him pacing and agonizing over what he was about to send: my death sentence. His personal note was included in the gold envelope all the way from the Capital, next to President Snow's request for me to die. His instructions, "Volunteer for the 67th Hunger Games to pay for your mother's disobedience with the Peace Makers, or the rest of your family will die." Of course they were in reality worded differently, ("It is my pleasure to personal request your entry into the Sixty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games to represent your district. This, of course is a prestigious honor. As you know, when the Dark Days of our beautiful country…) but the message was the same.

Two months ago, my mother was in the town where we buy our necessary food and other items. The woman who sells us bread, Mrs. Roser was suddenly thrown out of her store, into the mud from the rains last night.

"Next time," the Peace Keeper had snarled, "don't give us any reason to suspect you're harboring a criminal."

It turns out the Peace Keepers had received some sort of tip off that Mrs. Roser had a man guilty of treason living secretly in her house. They were wrong and took out their frustration on sweet Mrs. Roser. My mother could not stand such treatment, and decided to ask, "Where in Hell do you think you get that kind of authority?"

They responded, "The Capital itself and I would watch my mouth if I were you."

Mother chose not to watch her mouth.

We had wondered when something like this would happen. And here it was. The Gamemaker's own son, forced to volunteer as tribute.

I used to live in the Capital. District One is actually very pleasant, but it's nothing like the beautiful Capital. One winter, we fell on hard times and my father, Stan Landcaster, desperately applied to be on the Gamemaker board. Unfortunately, my Mother, Susan Landcaster, would rather starve than be supporting the games in any way. Although she was raised in the Capital, she was a rebel from birth, and despises the Hunger Games. Even when I watched them with Sam and Dad when we lived in the Capital she would purposely leave the room. When my father accepted the job, it was over between them almost immediately, at least for my mother. Within months we had left the Capital, and my beautiful girlfriend Jillian, moving into a quaint little home in District One. My mother had gotten a respectable job as a supervisor in the factories and mended clothing for citizens on the side. She attempted to refuse any money sent by my father, but eventually I talked her into accepting it. After all, he just wanted to help us.

The first reaping I attended in District One was awful. Any excitement for the Hunger Games I used to feel in the Capital was absolutely gone. I guess I realized it's not a game on the other side. I always thought that maybe I would get special treatment because I was the head Gamemaker's son. I was wrong.

I turn to look at the Reaping clothes I had put on the floor the night before. It makes me sick to think about putting them on and walking to the center of town. But I have to. Otherwise they'll go after everyone I love. My mother, my father, _Sam_…. Sam. Sam, my little brother, is only eight. He's one of the sweetest kids I know. He shares my love of nature, even though all the other competitive, bloodthirsty District One kids make fun of us for hanging around outside rather than decapitating foam dummies. I can't let him die. I can't.

I don't blame my mother for any of this. I know I should be angry at her temper, but I'm not. All I can think about is what I would have done if someone had thrust Mrs. Roser into the mud for no reason, and it looks a lot worse than what she did.

Putting on my Reaping clothes, I feel the terror rising in me. I'm looking at everything for the last time, memorizing it. Soaking it in.

I walk out into our living room area. My mother smiles brightly, but her trembling lips give her away. It's a good thing I haven't told her about the letters. She'll be shocked when I volunteer, but I'll give them to her when they visit at the Justice Building. I don't want her to attempt to stop them because it will just make things worse for Sam.

_Sam. _I can't even look at him. When I do he smiles at me and I feel this terrible weight fall through me. I _can't _just give up! What would Sam say if he knew? I need to try. An even more terrible weight falls: I'll need to kill.

We start our trek to the Town Square. I feel numb and trundle aimlessly behind my family. Sam keeps looking back at me, confused at how upset I am. Finally he runs back to me.

"Johnny, are you nervous about the Reaping?" He whispers.

"A little." I choke out. I HATE lying, especially to Sammy.

"It's going to be fine." He smiles again.

If any more weights drop I'm going to fall over.

When we reach the Town Square and check in. Now it's time to go to our respective age groups, but my feet won't move. Sam and my mom are staring at me, wondering why I'm acting so weird.

Finally, I open my dry mouth and croak, "Go with Mother Sam. I'll see you soon."

He gives me a quick hug and then runs off with Mom. She doesn't even have time to hug me.

I head toward the fifteen year old area and wait, my entire body shaking. When the Capital representative, Glodia Belle marches out onstage and winks so hugely to the camera that I can see it way in back and starts her spiel, I feel a little dizzy.

_"For God's sake Johnny don't you dare faint!" _I think, ordering myself. The video abruptly stops, and I notice, although I hadn't even registered that it was playing.

Glodia walks to the large bowls on two pedestals. She winks again and gives a ridiculous little twirl to the girls bowl.

"Here we go! And the girl who will be representing District One is…. Ali-"

"I VOLUNTEER!"

We all turn to see a strawberry blond girl with a muscular build striding impressively to the stage. Glodia squeals and helps her up.

"What's your name, Dearest?" Glodia asks, smiling so widely I think her lips might crack.

"Ruby Shine." The girl answers confidently.

I stop listening, trying not to faint. This girl obviously knows what she's doing…. Maybe an alliance would….

"And now for the boys!" Glodia shrieks with excitement.

Her hand dips into the bowl, but it won't matter who she picks. In a second, I'll be on that stage. She pulls out a name and opens it too quickly.

"Da-"

"I volunteer!" I shout, stepping out from my group. My legs shake and I nearly trip as I start the long walk to the stage.

**How did you like the tributes? I'm working on this with my sister, so credit for Johnny goes to josielynnt. Remember if you want to be part of this, you can submit a tribute, there are still 19 spots left, and you can submit up to 3 tributes!'**


	5. Landcaster's Guilt

_Mr. Landcaster POV_

I can believe it. My own son is going into the arena while I must try to kill him and his allies, as I'm the head gamemaker. Why? Why did I ever agree to do this stupid job! It's partly my fault! My poor son. I will never ever forgive myself for doing this to him. Never.

**Hey! So if you would like to submit a tribute for the SYOT games, there are still 17 spots left, and you can submit three. Keep in mind that once a district fills up, we will do that chapter!**


	6. District 4 Reaping

_Melodi Kemp POV_

I throw my golden brown hair into a loose ponytail, simultaneously attempting to put on my mucked up boots. It's early… too early, but the Reaping is in a mere 2 hours and if we want any time on the boat before I head off the early awakening is necessary.

" MELODI! HURRY UP!" Aquarius, my best friends screams, loud enough to wake up every single citizen of District Four, maybe even a few people in the Capital with excellent hearing.

I roll my eyes and pull on some plain shorts and a navy shirt. I'll need to stop home to change before the Reaping, but I'm not going to risk getting my new dress all mucked up. Finally, I grab my trident and a net in case I see anything that could be of value to my family. Of course practicing for the Games would be wise too, although I don't actually need it.

As I run down the stairs, my dog, Sandy, barrels into me. She's absolutely huge and at the same time extremely skinny, even though we give her all the scraps we can spare. Three years ago she ran up to me on the beach, sniffed me, and then promptly sat right down on me, spraying sand everywhere. Hence the name, "Sandy". She looks up at me pleadingly.

"Okay girl you can come." I whisper, kissing her head.

She trots outside with me, but once she sees Xander she goes crazy. Sandy runs straight into him, her tail wagging so powerfully my friend Harper has to move aside as to not develop a bruise on her leg.

"Nice of you to finally show up! I thought you forgot about us little people already." Aquarius teases.

"Just remember us when you come home a victor." Xander said, smiling at me.

He had recovered from Sandy's attack of love and after giving her a few pats he walks up to me and gives me a quick kiss.

"Urrrrgh…. Isn't it too early for that?" Triton Dells, a guy friend of mine asks.

I shoot him an irritated look and he goes to sit with another guy friend named Cody Blanch who's sitting near a tree across the street and already half asleep again. While he tries to shake Cody awake, I turn back to Xander.

Xander is my boyfriend and he completely understands my love of water. I actually first met him in the water. One night, I was swimming in one of my favorite places, a little area secluded from the rest of the beach by trees. Suddenly, I heard splashing, and saw something moving into the little pool. Thinking it was some sort of creature, I gasped and picked up my trident. As it got closer, I prepared for some epic battle. Of course, nearly killing Xander with my trident was such a classic and romantic innuendo for a relationship…. He forgave me and when got around to talking. In three months he asked me out, beating me to the punch, and I've never been happier. He understands me, and even though I know how terrifying it is for him to send me off into an arena of death, Xander is confident in my abilities.

Once Triton succeeds in waking up Cody, we head to my father's boat. They had planned a sort of send-off party. Usually, my father, Conch Kemp, and I headed out at this time of the morning to fish, but today was special. Once I get the motor going and steer us to a nice place on Lake Pontamac, I send the anchor down and sit on Xander's lap. As my friends take hold of the conversation, I feel myself zoning out as the waves slowly rock us back and forth. Sandy licks my hand gently until she gets sleepy and heads into the sunny spot to nap. Looking up at Xander, I feel a pang deep in my chest. There's no doubt I will come back to him; I had self-trained and self-motivated all towards the goal of being officially asked to volunteer as tribute for the Games, even though I think they are a stupid gimic. I want glory for District Four and my family. But I just am going to really miss him.

Before I knew it, the time had passed. I can see my father, a tiny dot on the shore waving his arms up and down, the signal that we need to head in. I sigh, and feel the tiniest tingle of something in my belly. Excitement? Nerves…. No of course not. Never nerves.

With the skill of a natural expert, I steer the "Oceania" back to the shore. My father grins at me as he ties the boat to the dock.

"Remember when I taught you to sail? Wasn't much teaching involved, seeing as you were a natural but…." He began. He's been oddly nostalgic since I was named tribute for District Four, and it makes my throat feel all weird when he gets like that.

"Daaad…." I groan.

He smiles and shakes his head.

As we get off the boat, I grab Xander's hand.

"So are you heading home to change?"

"Yep. I'll come straight to your house when I'm ready." He leans in and kisses me quickly again. He squeezes my hand gently and then walks off with Triton and Cody.

"See you at the Reaping!" Harper cries, hurrying to her house. She wasn't supposed to be out this morning, and she's hoping to get back before her mother notices.

"Good luck." Aquarius says, obviously uncomfortable. I know she doesn't really know what to say. Not that I blame her. I'm not sure I would know what to say if she was getting sent into the Hunger Games.

"Thanks Aqua." I say, smiling.

She waves and heads in the direction of her house. My father comes over and pats my back.

"Have fun this morning?" He asks, whistling for Sandy to follow us. He has to whistle a couple times before she'll actually get off the boat. She loves water, just like I do.

"Yes. I missed our morning fishing though." I reply, rubbing my trident. It's a force of habit, like Aqua biting her nails.

"Did you catch anything?" He asks, raising his eye brows at the lack of my usual haul.

"Shoot Dad I totally forgot! I guess… I'm a little off or something today."

"Don't get choked up Melodi. You can't make mistakes in the arena." Dad reminds me gently.

I'm silent, embarrassed that I look like I'm slipping up to my father.

"Hey Mel…I'm going to miss you like crazy. Come home to me." He says, gruffly.

"You know I will Dad."

He kisses my head like I'm five, but I don't even mind since it's him.

Once we get home I rush up stairs and put on my beautiful Reaping dress. My mother, Arista Kemp, said I might as well make a great first impression. It's a knee length sea green dress that matches my sea green eyes. Xander says I look absolutely stunning, although he also thinks I look absolutely stunning in my stained outfits I reserve for fishing, cleaning the boat motor, and gutting our catches. My mother then helps me braid my hair neatly, my excitement mounting. Finally, we're ready. Xander is waiting for me by the stairs, his mouth open wide as I descend.

"Mel…. You look like a mermaid."

I laugh and try to ignore the stupid pang of sadness that I would be leaving him in a matter of hours.

"Can I see you out back for a second?" He asks, smiling in a way that I know means he has a surprise for me.

"Of course."

Our backyard is decorated with mother's flower garden, accented with random things my father finds in the water while fishing or swimming, from a huge anchor to a rock that looks like a fish. Xander and I sat at the stone bench as he reaches into his pocket for something. He brings out a small sky blue box and presents it to me.

"Something to keep you connected to the sea, wherever you go." He says softly. "Oh and to your dashing boyfriend, of course."

I laugh and open the box. I try not to gasp, but I do anyway.

The tiniest little starfish on a little white string lies in the box. As I lift out the necklace gently, Xander takes it from me and slips it around my neck.

"Oh… Xander…." I wish I could say something a little more intelligent. But I don't have the chance to, as he starts to kiss me.

I'm floating on a wave, and when he pulls away my heart aches.

"Come back to me. Please." He whispers.

"How could I not?" I whisper back, smiling.

My mother comes outside then, telling us we need to get a move on to the Reaping. I walk confidently, my hand in Xander's. I can see everyone staring at me and whispering, all correctly concluding that I am this year's tribute. My parents proudly converse with their excited friends, but for me it all goes by in a blur.

We reach the square, and I turn to face Xander.

"This is it." I say, embarrassed at how my throat tightens.

"I love you." He says and kisses my cheek tenderly.

"I love you."

I say my goodbyes to my parents, and then stride to my age group's area. Apparently we were later than I thought, because Edolie Edgerton prances onstage about five minutes after I take my place.

"Welcome!" She sings. No, I mean it. She actually SINGS. I think I even hear a few people groan.

As she goes into her obviously pre-rehearsed speech, I get more and more excited. I wonder what the Capital looks like? I wish I could just send mental pictures to Xander….

"Alright potential tributes! Let's see which lucky one of you people will be District Four's next tribute!" She winks to the crowd and nearly skips to the Reaping bowl. Picking out a slip of paper, she walks back to the mic and I prepare to volunteer.

"Edeli-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I shout, and stride towards the stage. When I reach the carpeted steps, I wink and wave to Xander, who blows a kiss.

"What is your name, sweetie?" Edolie asks, her perfume hitting me like a cement brick. Seriously what is that stuff? I can just picture dead fish rising to the surface if she went out on the water.

"Melodi Kemp." I say, and start my journey to glory.

_Ky Finnegin POV_

The sky is gray and cold. I see my mother, running dodging bullets and screaming. My father runs, also screaming.

"NO!" he yells. Just then, a peacekeeper shoots a fatal shot to his stomach. My mother bends down screaming and crying.

Then the peacekeeper puts a bullet through her head.

She's gone.

"NO! NO! Mom! Dad! Wake up!" I yell still stuck in my dream.

"Ky! Wake up!" I open my eyes to see my 13 year- old sister, Coral, dressed in her nightgown looking very concerned. "Were you having that dream again? 'bout mom and Dad?"

"Yeah," I say wiping sweat from my face with my sheets. "But don't worry about it. You got to get back to bed. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"You sure?" she asks. "Can get you a glass of warm milk or anythi-"

"No, Coral. I'm fine"

"Alright then," I hear her walk down the hall and shut her door behind her. Once I'm sure she's out of ear-shot, I allow one tear roll down my cheek.

I had been only twelve. My mother and my father had been planning a revolution against the capitol for over a year. They had planned to surround the peacekeepers station, and attack. They knew it could result in the loss of their lives but they thought it would be a good way to send a message to the rest of Panem.

They were wrong.

Somehow the peacekeepers had found out what the rebels were planning to do, so they shut it down.

They shut it down by shooting every, single one of the rebels.

I saw the whole thing with my very own eyes.

I have never, ever forgotten it. That's why I have these dreams almost every week. They're terrible. It's lucky I have Coral here. She's the sweetest girl in the whole world. She was only eight when it happened.

I glance at my clock. 5:45. The training center opens at six. I might as well go. It will keep my mind of those horrible dreams. After the loss of my parents, I spent my time training for the Hunger Games. It keeps me from thinking about my past. I discovered that I have a knack for throwing tridents, and that my dream is to win the Hunger Games someday. That way Coral and I can move out of the dump we live in now, and live in a real home. Maybe the same one we lived in when mom and dad were still around. I dress in a simple white shirt, and black sweatpants. I brush my hair and leave a note for Corrie, my nickname for Coral, and head out. Even though it's just turning six o'clock District 4 is buzzing with activity. Everywhere I turn I see people fishing, sell their fish, and eating fish. In District 4 it all seems to be about fish. When I reach the training center, it seems oddly quiet. I walk in, and the only person I see is my trainer and only friend, Benton. Benton is 22, and taught me everything I know about throwing my favorite weapon, the trident.

"Ky! My man! What are you doing here so early?"

"Um, just thought I'd get some extra practice. I would really like to volunteer this year,"

"Ah, we'll there's no one else here, so at least you get the trident station to yourself! Oh right, I'm supposed to tell you, you are supposed to volunteer this year!"

"Well yeah," I say "Pretty much everyone's told me!"

With that, Benton starts laughing and walks away. Benton's my friend, but sometimes he acts a bit odd. With his loud laugh and kooky grin, it's hard not to become friends with him. Benton and I are complete opposites. He's funny. I'm awkward. He's loud. I'm quiet. He makes friends easily. The only friends I have in the world are Benton himself and Coral.

I spend the next hour practicing throwing my trident. The reaping in four is extremely early, at eight o'clock, so I say goodbye to Benton, and pack up.

When I get home, Coral is sitting in the living room waiting for me.

"Hi Ky! How do I look? Do I look pretty?" she asks with a huge smile. She's wearing a beautiful aqua dress with matching shoes and pearl earrings that were my mother's. The sight of them almost makes me tear up.

"I don't know, maybe a bit too pretty?" I say with a smile.

"I'm worried for you Ky," she says. "I know you can win, but I'm worried I'll lose you!"

"You won't," I say. "I promise." We exchange a hug, and I leave to get into my reaping clothes. I'm wearing black pants, and a white collared shirt. I comb my hair, and then Coral and I head out. The square is only five minutes away from our house, so it doesn't take long to find our places in the reaping lines.

Within minutes, the famous Edolie Edgerton, is once again on the stage briefing us on how great the capitol is. We watch the short, irritating video on again how great the capitol is.

"Welcome!" Adolie sings. "Alright, potential tributes! Let's see which lucky one of you lovely people will be District 4's next tributes!" She winks at the crowd, and saunters over to the girls reaping bowl. She reaches into to the bowl, and picks out a name knowing it doesn't even really matter, because someone will just volunteer anyway.

"Edeli-"

"I volunteer!" a girl's voice shouts. A thin, but muscular girl walks up onto the stage smiling. When she gets to the stage, still smiling she waves and winks to someone in the crowd. I think forming an alliance with her would be a good idea. She will definitely be part of the career pack.

"What is your name, sweetie?" Edolie asks sweetly.

"Melodi Kemp" the girl says proudly.

"Great! We'll now let's see who the lucky boy will be!" This is it, I know I have to move fast, or else I will miss my chance.

"Cari-"

"I volunteer!" I shriek. I walk up with my chest out onto the stage. I know that if I want to let the careers let me be part of their pack, I have to make sure I look strong, which I am of-course.

"And what is your name, sir?"

"Ky Finnegan," I say running one hand through my golden brown hair, smirking to the camera.

"Wonderful!' squeals Edolie. "District 4, meet your tributes!"

I know I will get back home.

**Hi Guys! How did you like District 4's tributes? I'd like to thank my beautiful sister for writing the Melodi POV, josielynnt! Keep sending in tributes! There are 11 spots left, so send in those tributes! Keep in mind that if you submit a tribute to a district that already has the other gender in it, that your reaping chapter will be posted sooner!**

**torystory93 AND josielynnt**


	7. The Reaping Party

_POV Rosemary Valjet_

Our party was in full swing. The Reapings for both District One and District Four had just occured and while we wait anxiously for the next, everyone is already beginning to speculate.

"Was that Mr. Landcaster's SON who was Reaped for the 1st District?" My friend Ophelia asks, raising her heavy magenta veil so we can see her liberally glittered face.

" He wasn't REAPED Ophelia, silly darling, weren't you paying any attention? He VOLUNTEERED." Monle, another friend, responds snobbily, her half neon green and half neon orange lips forming a sneer.

"Why on earth would he do that? His father will be trying to kill him! What an awful predicament..." Gaznetia, a girl I have known since age 5 adds. She thinks a moment and then smiles excitedly, squealing, "It will be so interesting to watch!"

"Enough about Landcaster, what about the female tribute from Distict One?" Derik asks, sitting on the arm of Ophelia's chair, and winking at her.

"She looked like definite career material. Of course, all District One citizens usually are." I say petting Pooky, my small little dog with fur dyed golden. She goes with almost everything I wear this way.

"Well I liked the look of that female District Four tribute. I already feel I'll be putting some money on her." Derik's friend Enriche says drinking a sip of his chocolate blueberry flavored wine.

"I loved her little wink and wave. Sooo chic!" Gaznetia squeals again.

"I'm not incredibly impressed with any tributes I've seen yet..." Monle says, feiging boredom. However, I saw how intrigued she was when Landcaster's son volunteered and how much she admired Melodi. But she would never admit such things.

"District Four looked particularly strong this year, in my opinon." Ophelia says.

Abruptly the Capital seal appears on screen again and the athem begins.

"Another Reaping!" Gaznetia screams.

We all turn enthusiastically to the screen, bursting with curiousity as to who the next tributes will be.

**Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed that little snippet! This is josielynnt here, torystory93's sister. There are currently 11 spots left in this SYOT so submit or reserve tributes now through PM! Keep in mind that if you submit a tribute to a district that already has the other gender tribute, your reaping chapter will be posted sooner! Thanks for reading, we're really eager and excited to be writing for you guys! **

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	8. District 7 Reaping

_Ivy Blood POV_

I stab the first foam dummy with vigor, then turn to the next, terrible power surging through me. I'm a storm of anger and death just daring anyone to challenge me. The end of the line of dummies comes quickly, but I'm not surprised. As I turn to examine my destruction, I see the terrified face of the little girl waiting for her sister to finish training. She turns quickly away from my steely glare, like it's burning her. Good. I return to the actual business at hand.

The dummies lay arranged like fallen dominoes. I'm pleased to see I hit my mark perfectly each time. I congratulate myself, now convinced my talent is sufficient enough to earn me a spot in the career pack. This will make it easy to get rid of at least one "mighty" career.

I snort without any mirth. Capital servants, that's what they all are. Looking out the training center's windows, (named the "Exercise Complex" officially, but we all know what it really is) I can already see people gathering in the Square for the Reaping. Ugh. At least I don't live in a career district. Normally the Games are interminable for me, but this year I'll get to have some fun.

I'm not sure why I never thought of entering the Games. They're perfect grounds for a rebellion that will be captured on the Capital's own cameras. I don't actually plan to win the games, just mess up their little entertainment enough to make a lasting statement. Kill a couple of careers, break the rules… Yes, I'm going to be unforgettable in the worst way.

My parents were the only people who had any decency in this world. 7 years ago, they planned a careful rebellion, but were crushed before they had the chance to even start and were turned into Avoxes. I have no idea if they're alive, but if they are, I'm absolutely certain my rebellion will help spur them into action from the inside, if they haven't done that on their own, of course. I'll never forget or forgive what the Capital did to us. Not only did they take away Mom and Dad from Scarlet, my ten year old sister and I, but they tortured me. I screamed for them to stop hurting my parents from our porch, trying to fight through the confusion of Peace Keepers assembled in our house and on the lawn. They thought a little eleven year old screaming for her parents, tears running down her cheeks was humorous.

"Let's torture the little traitor's daughters, show them what they'll get if they decide to follow in their footsteps!" One shouted.

What they did next was unspeakable. Taking the knife to our parents mouths, they rendered them speechless forever, right in front of me, only eleven years old, and three year old Scarlet.

I broke.

Screaming with fury I left Scarlet on the porch and attacked them. I did all I could do to make them hurt, make them feel some of the pain that was burning my heart and leaving irreparable damage. Gone was the innocent child I used to be.

I was whipped soon after that in the Square for all to see, leaving me with the long scar running down my left cheek. I like it. A reminder of my strength, enough to make people look at me twice and adjust their actions accordingly. I'm feared even more, it makes me look dangerous. Which I am.

I leave for the Reaping, shouldering my bag, and not bothering to change out of my dirty training clothing. Why should I dress up for the Capital devils? The training center is right in the Square, so I don't have to walk far. Once I'm checked in I stride to the spectator area, where people too young or too old play the audience. Scarlet is waiting for me near the edge so I can get through to her. It's easy to recognize her, even in a crowd like this. She looks exactly like me, tall and skinny with stick straight brown hair. The only difference is her radiant green eyes.

On the inside we're completely different. She somehow stays positive, although she hates the Capital as well. I can't understand how the bitter anger inside of me isn't inside her too, and I've always felt uncomfortable around her for that reason. She wasn't happy when I told her I was volunteering, but our neighbors have a child who is her age and her best friend. I've asked them to take her in for me, and they accepted. It makes things easier this way.

"Hey Scarlet." I say, handing her my bag.

Her eyes are red, making me even more uncomfortable. She's been begging me to stay, not to leave her. At times I don't want to, but I have to do this and avenge Mom and Dad. Why she can't understand that is beyond me. I can see she hasn't given up yet.

"Please Ivy…. Please don't leave. You can't. I'll ha-aave no one le-ef-fft." She's already starting to sob again and I feel a terrible ache in my chest, which I immediately push away.

"Scarlet I've made up my mind and I have to do this. Mom and Dad need me to avenge them, to send them a message to not give up."

"Try to win." She says, tears running down her cheeks. "I love you."

My throat was acting funny and my eyes felt itchy. Weird.

"I…I love you too Scarlet."

I turn quickly and march to my age group, not daring myself to look back. The wait in my place with the eighteen year olds seems to last forever especially when all I can see are Scarlet's eyes, in so much pain and so lonely. I swallow and try to shut those weak thoughts out. I need to do this, I NEED to do this, I chant.

After what seemed like days, Houghton Miffilan walks with dignity onto the stage, waving at the crowd, his hand moving as fast as the trains that zoom off to the Capital with the lumber we labored for.

"Weeeeeelcome!" He shouts, holding the "e" in welcome for at least ten seconds. "In just a few moments, we'll get those lucky ducks who will participate in the 67th Annual Hunger Gaaaaaaaaaaames! But first, let's watch a video about our beeeeeeeautiful Capital, shall we?"

I've been in the presence of a Capital citizen for maybe 30 seconds and I already have a pounding headache.

Once the video is mercifully over, I ready myself to volunteer. I tell myself Scarlet will love life with her best friend's family, that it was the right thing to do. I was going to make Mom and Dad proud.

"Time for the giiiiiiirls!" Houghton sings, and he reaches into the girl's bowl. He shuffles with the paper, opens it and calls out, "Jos-".

"I VOLUNTEER!" I shout, ignoring the gasp from the crowd.

As I walk to the stage, I take care to look left and right, intimidatingly scanning the crowd. When I reach the stage I do my best to ignore Houghton, although his neon orange suit with fuzzy pink cuffs and collar makes it difficult. I turn to the audience and give them my signature glare.

"Ahem." Houghton taps my shoulder. "Your name."

I sigh but reply, "Ivy Blood. And I guarantee to all of you, I'll make the games interesting this year."

_Paul Pines POV_

I'm in a beautiful forest, just like the Wauky forest right by my house. The sky is dark, but I know this forest. It's my forest, the one I played in, grew up in, and even once slept in. I feel the bark of the tree nearest to me, and I sigh with happiness. I love it here. Suddenly I hear a huge thud behind me. I whip my head around and see my dead brother, Hugh, with a knife in his stomach, and his shirt stained with blood.

The dark haired boy from District 1, who killed my brother, emerges laughing and says, "You're next, seven!"

"NO!" I scream finally escaping from that horrible dream. My mother rushes in, cradles me in her arms, attempting to calm me down. It doesn't work. I'm shaking, and crying uncontrollably. This has been happening ever since I lost my brother, Hugh, last year. He had been in the 66th Hunger Games, and he had done pretty well for not only a tribute from the outlying districts, but the mayor's son as well. It was down to him, and that career boy from District 1. Everyone in the District knew it wasn't going to end well for Hugh.

I had faith in him, but it didn't matter. He died a terrible death. That horrible career wanted to make his death slow and dramatic. My brother, the one I always looked up to, wanted to be like, and my best friend, bled to death, never to laugh or smile at me ever again.

Of course, the District one boy, who I later learned was named, Nequiel, came to visit our District during his victory tour. He seemed sane enough, but I caught his smirk directed to me as he walked out. I hated that! If killing my brother wasn't enough!

Ever since that, I've lost all hope in humanity. I thought maybe things would eventually get better! Maybe the capitol would have gotten over thrown! But, that's fool's talk. There's no hope.

I dismiss my mother, not wanting to make a fool of myself, and try to crawl back into my covers. I know it's no use, I'll never fall asleep. No, not tonight. I knew the dreams would get worse around this time, seeing as tomorrows' the reaping, but I'd hope that someday they'd go away.

It's my first reaping tomorrow. My name is only in there once, because I'm only twelve, and my family has more than enough money, but I still terrified. Terrified, that I'll be ripped from my family, made all pretty, and then led to certain death.

I lay in my bed trying to think of when times were happy, and I was young and carefree, but it's no use. Oh, if only Hugh were here!

Hugh was the only one who could ever calm me down if I was upset.

Not my mother. Not my father. Not my 19 year old sister Theresa. Just Hugh. And now he's six feet under in the Wauky forest.

I go to his grave sometimes. Just to sit in the sun, and remember him.

I never cry, it's just a regular day in the forest with Hugh.

"I'll go there today, to remember him," I think.

Which is exactly what I do. I get up after lying in my bed for a couple more sleepless hours, and I walk. Walk to the forest. Walk to Hugh's grave. Just walk.

About an hour before the reaping, I head home to shower, comb my hair, clean my teeth, and get in my reaping clothes.

My mother has laid out from me Hugh's first reaping outfit, a pair of black pants, and a blue collared shirt.

Once I'm changed I head downstairs. Theresa throws her arms around me, and my mother just stares.

"You look just like Hugh," she says with a weak smile, and I can see tears in her eyes. Soon I begin to cry, and then Theresa starts to cry as well. We all hug, and are locked in a heated embrace.

I'm the first one to break away.

"Where's dad?" I ask.

"He's at work, preparing for the reaping," She says wiping tears from her eyes. _Reaping._ Just that word makes me shudder. It's a terrible word, and I hate it.

"Oh," I say, slightly disappointed that my own father wasn't going to wish me luck at my first reaping. "I hate that he's the mayor," I say bitterly.

"Don't say that Paul!" Theresa says, "Without dad being the mayor, we probably wouldn't have supper every night!"

"Sorry," I say not at all sorry. I'd rather not eat, than have my father have such a capitol- supporting job. At about a quarter to eleven, we head over to the reaping. This is when I really start to panic. My whole body is shaking, and I can't even stay still for the woman at the check in desk to take my blood.

As the reaping begins, I'm still shaking when the famous Houghton Miffilan begins his usual spiel, and still shaking when a terribly scary tall, skinny dark haired girl lunges forward to volunteer, announcing herself as Ivy Blood, and still shaking when Houghton starts to reach into the boys reaping ball.

_"Not me,"_ I think. "_Please, please not me,"_

"Paul Pines,"

I hear my mother's gasp, and my sister's cry. Before I can understand what's happening I start moving my way towards the stage.

But then it hits me, I'm going to die.

**Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter! Please, please, please if you haven't submitted a tribute yet, feel free to do so. My sister and I (josielynnt who wrote Ivy Blood's POV) really enjoy writing this! The tribute form, along with the list of available tributes (9 spots remaining) is accessible through my profile!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**torystory93, and josielynnt **


	9. District 2 Reaping

_Brynn Carver POV_

The fire crackles loudly and I inch my feet closer to soak up some warmth. I suppose it's nice to have some time to relax but all I can think about is training. My father, Mason Carver, is out with some of his friends, (really more of cronies in my opinion), so our house in Victor Village is empty. Telling myself I need to rest for the early work out I have planned before the Reaping, I lay back, letting the straight, black hair that goes to my waist fan out around me. I close my bright, icy blue eyes and attempt to think of nothing.

It doesn't work.

Energy pulsing through me, I run to the closet in our front hallway, snatch my tattered training bag, and sprint to our home gym. Once there after putting my hair in a tight ponytail, I press the button on the right side of the room. With a little ding, a piece of the wall rolls back to reveal my special little elevator. _A Present…Use this and make me proud Brynn._ That's what my father said when he had my knife throwing chamber installed on my seventh birthday. We had discovered my particular skill with that weapon a few months before.

The elevator stops after only about a ten second ride, but a black curtain is in front of the entrance. When I ring the bell, the course downstairs immediately shifts from the last time it was in use, so I have a completely new one. The black curtain descends to keep it a surprise so I can better assess my skills. Just memorizing a course and repeating it over and over will do nothing for me in the games.

The elevator door opens and the curtain swings dramatically back. Swiftly, I grab eight knives and flip them so the grooves of the handles rub the familiar places in my hand where so many other knives have been. A computerized target rolls toward me, a robot arm holding a rubber sword. The rubber is thick and while it can't do any fatal damage, the sting from a hit can hurt. Not me though. I'm as strong as steel. I transfer one to my free hand and throw with deadly accuracy. That target is down and it speeds to its next position. Four others rush at me from opposite sides.

_Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!_

I hear the rolling of wheels behind me and leap to face the target.

_THWACK!_

On it goes, targets darting at me, advancing stealthily. I spin, run, and slide, my ponytail smacking my cheeks and neck until a loud bell clangs and I slow, panting only slightly at the exertion. My score appears on the board all the way from the Capitol. 100/100.

I grin fiercely, not about to down play my accomplishments. I smile at the thought of telling my father the news we've been waiting for, the prize we were being given for my years of hard work.

Ever since I could hold a knife or sword I've been training for the Games. The reason I live in such luxury is because of the Games. My father was the victor of the 49th Hunger Games, the year after I was born, so all I've known is privilege. I feel confident in my natural abilities, but having a state of the art training facility all the way from the Capitol and a victor as my personal trainer only makes me even more of an obvious winner.

I push my hair back, but it falls in my face again. Irritated, I French braid my hair tight to my scalp. Then I take my elevator back to the regular gym and do my assorted weapons training. I've practiced with my spear, sword, axe, bow and arrow, and even the cursed trident that I can't seem to get perfect before my father enters. He looks anxious, but I simply say, "Hi Dad," and take another shot at the trident.

"Brynn!" He isn't laughing, but this is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Yes?" I ask, the picture of innocence.

"How was the training center today?" He asks pointedly.

Although I often practice at home, I also do sessions at the District Two Training Center. It was there that I got the announcement my Dad is so eager to hear.

"I was very focused."

"Brynn Carver!"

I smile, and his face lights up.

"You got it!"

"You doubted me?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not at all." He says with a huge smile, and he crosses the room to pat my shoulder.

In our family, affection ends there. Anything else is on the weak and sentimental side which is not tolerated. Focus, dedication, and skill are the admirable attributes for Carvers. My mother didn't have those attributes, and that's why she left us.

The year that I was born, my mother was Reaped. She was seventeen. In those same Games, she died and left my father crushed. He hides his sadness well, but every once and a while he slips up and I can see the hurt that still lingers. But he brushes it aside as he has taught me to do throughout my life. In the 49th Hunger Games he became a victor and brought honor to our family. He raised me at only eighteen and without a wife at that, but he's raised an honorable child who will make him proud.

"It's late, Brynn, get to bed. You've got a big day ahead of you and I'll expect to see you here at 5:30 A.M. sharp so we can work on that trident." He says, frowning at my last attempt which was about three inches off the target. I wince, but nod, pick up my bag, and head off towards my bedroom.

I awake up at 5:05 and turn off my alarm set for 5:10. Today is the day! I can't stop smiling like an idiot as I gather my bag and braid my hair extra tight. My father is already in the training center by the time I arrive with a disapproving expression on his face. I look at the clock nervously. 5:31….

"Sorry." I say. My father requests that I be five minutes early to appointments, even with him. "I guess I'm so excited about the games I…."

"No excuses." He interrupts. But on this day, even he can't hold it in. He smiles slightly and says, "Now let's get going."

I stare in my small mirror at my faded green dress that ends below the knees in semi-satisfaction. Unfortunately, it's not enough to make that big of a lasting impression and I'm embarrassed to be seen by Capitol officials this way. I decide to let my long, black-brown hair out of its tight braid so it flows in long waves down to my waist. Better.

My father and I walk to the Square together. He gives me as much last minute advice as he can, although he'll be seeing me again when he visits before I journey to the Capitol. It's appreciated and I feel ready to win. We reach check-in and he turns to face me with a proud smile.

"My girl." He says softly. "You look like your mother."

I think we are both mutually surprised that just came out of his mouth. I actually take a slight step back in shock and his face is confused. He gives me a distracted pat and walks towards the observation area. Making my way to the eighteen year old spot, I try to push away my stupid feeling of happiness. My mother was weak. I don't want to be like her. Ever.

Finnigus Absec has seemingly magically appeared onstage, but I guess I just wasn't paying attention. He claps loudly with excitement and yells at a deafening volume, "WELCOME TO THE 67th ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES! HAPPY HUNGER GAMES AND MAY THE ODDS BY EVER IN YOUR FAVOR!"

He knows there is a microphone in front of him, right?

The Capitol seal appeared on the screens and the video explaining the Hunger Games begins. I watch closely, as I've always admired Capitol films. I can't believe I'll be there in a mere day or two. Once it's over, my belly is leaping with excitement. This is the moment they'll show after my victory, when they recap all the important moments of me. This is the first time the Capitol citizens will see me. I can just hear them, whispering about my obvious caliber, betting heavily in my favor….

"Pen-" Finnigus begins.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I scream, victoriously. I can't hide the grin on my face as I march to the stage where Finnigus is unfortunately even louder than from far away.

"AND WHAT'S YOUR NAME, MY BEAUTIFUL LADY?"

" Brynn Carver, your next victor." I say, shinning with glee.

I can just hear the crowd going wild.

_Blake Dylans POV_

"Sophia, for the last time," I say a bit disgruntled. "There's nothing you can do to change my mind! I have to volunteer for my parents!"

She does a little pouty face that makes me crack up, and then she smiles and asks teasingly, "Not even this?" She pulls me towards her, and presses her lips against mine. I can feel her soft breath. It's wonderful. Sophia and I have been dating ever since I was thirteen. I was at the training center, dueling an opponent; I had just beaten him, by slashing my rubber sword across his padded face.

All the kids in the training center were cheering. It was one of the best moments of my life. Then a beautiful twelve year old that I had recognized from training stepped up onto the stage.

"I bet I could beat you," she said with a nasty smile swinging a mask over her face.

"Bring it on," I had said smiling knowing there was no way in hell that this little twelve year could beat me.

Boy, I was wrong. She knocked me out cold. What had at first been one of the best moments of my life, now had become the most embarrassing moment of my life. I couldn't show my face in the training center for days. Finally, when I did return, the girl was waiting for me. Her blonde hair was in braids that framed her blue eyes nicely. She was beautiful.

"I was wondering when you would finally crawl out of your hole of embarrassment," she said again with her nasty smile. I wanted to be mad, but for some reason I couldn't. There was something about this girl that I liked, loved even. So long story short, we became friends, later fell in love, and are still a couple today.

I'm still kissing her when I hear the door open.

"Sh.." my cousin Bobby says.

"Get out!" I yell, worried that Sophia will be mad, because after all this is the last time, I'll see her until I come home, of course. But when I turn around, I see that she is laughing. I love her laugh.

"Hey! My mom and dad want to let you know that you should get ready for the reaping!" Bobby yells as he exits.

"Fine!" I yell. Bobby's my cousin, and best friend, besides Sophia. He's pretty much a brother to me because I live with my Uncle Cade, and my Aunt Mabel. I love them, but I'd give anything, and I mean anything to live with my mom and dad. My mother had gotten pregnant with me when she was just seventeen years old. My father and she weren't married so in other words, I was an accident baby. I was only one week old when, as luck would have it, they both got reaped for the Hunger Games. From then on I was placed under the care of Cade, and Mabel. I've never watched the tape of their Hunger Games but from what I'm told, they stuck with each other till the end. Then were killed by a boy from District Nine. His arrow pieced my father first, who dived in front of my mother to save her, and then my mother who, after my father's death jumped in front of the boys arrow, wanting to be with him.

I'm almost angry. She could have killed that boy easily. I could be standing with my mother right now.

All I do know is that I have vowed to kill any District Nine tribute that comes my way. District Nine won those games. The boy, now man, is mentoring this year.

I will get revenge. I'm excited for the games, but I absolutely hate the capitol. They are the reason I'm not standing with my parents right now.

I give Sophia a long goodbye kiss, there will be more to come when she comes to say goodbye to me, and I start to prepare for the reaping. First I take a couple of swings at my practice dummy with my rubber sword. I hit my mark every time.

_District Nine, District Nine_, I think. After I'm done I dress in my reaping clothes, Mabel was kind enough to provide me with a black tuxedo, which she assures me is the height of capitol fashion. I slick back my hair, and hope Sophia will tell me I look sexy when she comes to say goodbye. Bobby looks less impressive, in khaki pants and a plain white shirt. To the dismay of his parents, he was never good at handling any sort of weapon. I can handle pretty much anything, except a bow and arrow which Sophia can kick my butt at.

We begin to walk to the reaping, and as I leave my house, I begin to have a feeling of what only can be sadness. I'm leaving my home, for the first time for a long period of time. I know I will be back though. I have to get back, for Mabel, as she was my mother's sister and she can't afford to lose another family member. I have to get back for Cade. For Bobby. For Sophia. Sophia most of all. I can't live without her, she can't live without me. Without me, she will be devastated. I can't let that happen to Sophia, my sweet Sophia. I truly do love her. She's the first person I ever did love.

As we get to the reaping, after I'm done checking in I dash off I pursuit of Sophia. I find her waiting in the seventeen year old girls roped off section.

She almost gasps when she sees me. "Blake, you look so sexy!"

"You don't look too bad yourself," That's a huge understatement. She's wearing the most beautiful turquoise gown. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she's wearing a delightful pink shade of lip gloss. I lean into kiss her, with no regard for the other people, who are whispering and pointing at us.

"I got to go," I say sadly as I see Finnigus Absec, walking up to the stage and tapping the microphone to see if it's on. I rush to my place in the eighteen year old area.

Finnigus has a bad habit of SHOUTING EVERYTHING HE SAYS! That's evident as soon as he starts to speak.

"WELCOME TO THE 67TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES! HAPPY HUNGER GAMES AND MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR!"

_Capitol people, _I think angrily I'll show them. I zone out the entire video, and just try to figure out what I'm going to say when I walk up onto that stage.

Finnigus reaches into the girl's reaping ball and picks out a name.

"Pen-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I hear a girls voice.

"AND WHAT'S YOUR NAME, MY BEAUTIFUL LADY?"

"Brynn Carver, your next victor" she says smiling. The crowd goes wild. I know now exactly what I'm going to do. Finnigus saunters to the boys ball and picks out the name;

"Bob-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I yell as loud as I can. I walk slowly up onto the stage smiling, and waving to the crowd. Finnigus helps me up onto the stage.

"WHOA! ANOTHER ATTRACTIVE TRIBUTE! WHAT'S YOUR NAME SON?"

"Blake Dylans," I say proudly. "And I'm the _real_ next victor!" Finnigus squeals, I didn't even know guys could squeal, and the crowd goes crazy yet again. I direct a smirk towards Brynn, and when she sends me a violent glare back, I know I've done well.

**Hey! Yay, we got three chapters posted today! Thanks so much for being faithful readers, and we hope you enjoy our story. There are still six spots left, so get those tributes in! Each person is allowed to submit three tributes, and you can get the form/list on my profile. I wrote Blake Dylans for this chapter and Josie wrote Brynn Carver. Thanks guys!**

**-torystory93 and josielynnt-**

**P.S Josie wanted you guys to know that she just learned "Capital " is spelled Capitol in the Hunger Games Books. She apologizes for her mistake. Lol just kidding!**


	10. A Parent's Pain

_Mr. Landcaster POV_

I sit in stunned silence, the television paused on Johnny's brave face. Although my screen room is silent the waves of guilt and pain that crash over my head are louder than ever before. I'm required to comment on the Reapings tonight with Cesar Flickerman...how can a parent comment on their child's death sentence? How can I discuss Johnny's odds like he's some little piece, a pawn in someone's game? I clench my fists, looking up at his face on the screen.

_I did this._

I watched him volunteer to save us, walk with his head held high. All because I took this job. All because I went against my beliefs, work with people I despise, do terrible things... I thought it would save us all. But now I've done this to Johnny. And I can never forgive myself.

I bury my head in my hands.

** josielynnt here! Sad mini chapter with Landcaster :( But almost all our spots are full! We have a bunch of Reapings coming up for you guys and we appreciate all your awesome reviews! In a couple days torystory93 and I are going on vacation, so there may not be updates for about 3 days. We'll try to get in some Reapings before we go! Thanks for your continued support! We love writing for you all! Keep the feedback coming!**

**josielynnt AND torystory93**


	11. District 9 Reaping

_Autumn Fields POV_

I throw on a pair of old, dirty pants and a shirt that once was a bright blue but has faded to gray. As I lace up my boots, grab my two burlap sacks, and head out the door I don't bother to leave a note for Summer, Winter, or Spring. They'll know where I've gone and this won't take long.

Once I get to the corn and wheat fields, I duck below my secret hole in the wire fence that surrounds our workplace. A few Peace Keepers are lazily ambling about far off in their small station, but they pay no attention to the fields as usual. I move quickly, pulling ears of corn easily from their swaying bearers and dropping them into my sack. When I'm satisfied with my haul, enough to sell to outweigh the risk but not so much that it raises suspicion, I dart over to the lines of grain and begin to expertly wield my sickle, watching the Peace Keeper station carefully.

Suddenly, I see two exit the building, gazing suspiciously over the field.

_No, no, no, no….._

I drop my sickle in the other burlap sack and stealthily slip back to my exit. Once I've cleared the fence I run for the back alleys as to not be spotted and straighten to throw off any suspicion. When I reach the Square, I relax, and walk casually toward the baker's.

It's quite early, but District Nine is already stirring. Men in their field clothes are preparing for a morning harvest before the Reaping with a cup of bitter tea at Fenard's general goods. The few that have enough money drink coffee with the small handfuls of coffee beans occasionally imported for the Capitol. Each cup only receives a few beans, so it's really slightly bitter hot water, but I suppose the novelty of coffee is too much to ignore if one has the money. I sigh, shaking my head, and walk into Mrs. Josephine's bakery.

The smell of fresh, sweet bread rolls over me like a warm blanket. Mrs. Josephine is not behind the counter, so I stumble over to the display case holding the cakes and pastries. One cake, clearly the largest, is on a special little pedestal in the middle of the case. I know for a fact it is a rich vanilla cake with buttercream frosting and has a moist chocolate center in the middle. The cake has green frosting made to look like grass and candy flowers dotted in random areas all over it. I lick my lips longingly and can't help but put my face so close to the glass that it starts to fog up.

"GIRL!" A gruff voice bellows.

I jump backwards, startled, to see Mrs. Josephine behind the counter.

She was quite a sight. Mrs. Josephine was rather large, the result of sampling her beautiful work, with large green eyes and an oddly tiny nose. Her hair had once been bright red, but with age it had faded into a steely gray. Her hair was constantly a mess and often streaked with flour. At the moment, her green eyes were squinted narrowly at me in displeasure.

"Fogging up my glass….storming in like she owns the place…." Mrs. Josephine mutters as she reaches under the counter for a rag, runs water over it, and thrusts it toward me. "Clean this monstrosity."

"Good morning to you too, Mrs. Josephine." I say with a smile.

"Cheeky brat." She snaps, but she can't hold back her slight smirk.

Once I had cleaned the glass I "befouled", she takes the rag and gestures to a stool at the far left corner. I drag it to the counter and sit.

She looks at my sacks expectantly and asks, "So have you got anything decent for me today girl?"

"A sack half full of wheat and corn for 3 loaves of bread." I state, lifting my bounty up to her.

Mrs. Josephine opened the bag and inspected the items, grumbling inaudibly. She sniffed ears of corn and caressed the wheat but this odd behavior didn't faze me. I had been selling to Mrs. Josephine ever since my parents died when I was twelve, leaving me to fend for Summer, Winter, and little Spring who had only been four at the time.

The Peace Keeper's hadn't done their job. Every morning they were supposed to inspect the trees surrounding the fields to make sure there wouldn't be any accidents with tracker jackers. But they had been lazy and arrogant. A storm had hit the night before, but no one followed directions and checked the fields to make sure no nests had fallen.

My parents died when they entered the fields and were attacked by thousands of angry tracker jackers. I'll never forget how terrible it was, waiting for them to come home from work, watching them become later and later until the mayor came to deliver the bad news himself. I remember clutching Summer's shoulder in an attempt to keep my balance. I can hear Winter's wails, only seven years old, and see Spring's confused face, searching mine for answers.

I shake the memories away and watch as Mrs. Josephine puts the food back into the sack.

"I'll give you the three loaves. But I'm not running a charity here girl. Next time, bring me items with more quality!" Mrs. Josephine sniffs, bagging three loaves of her heavenly whole wheat bread.

Mrs. Josephine acts as if she despises me, but I know she enjoys my company. After her husband died along with my parents in the accident, she seemed like she needed a friend. I spent some time in her shop, sometimes helping bake even or just drinking tea. Underneath her hard exterior, she really is a sweet person. Also, she has no qualms about buying my personal, not so legal harvests. But the Capitol doesn't need the small amount I take, and my sibling's survival depends on it.

I head off towards our house, eager to feed my siblings something nourishing on such an awful day. They will need all the stamina they could get.

Summer is waiting for me on our meager little porch. She's writing in a small notebook and with pencil I bought for her with some of my harvests earlier. Summer writes constantly, but she won't show anyone her work. I have no idea what it is about, and our family game is trying to guess.

"Autumn! Is that bread?" She rushes over, touching it gently, as though she thinks if she touches it too hard it will disappear.

"Yes. If you all get in your Reaping clothes, we can enjoy this before we head over." I say, smiling. I knew Reaping Day was hard for Autumn. Last year, when she was twelve, it was her first Reaping and she nearly fainted.

Autumn runs inside and I can hear her relaying my message to Winter and Spring. Spring's head appears briefly in the window, his little green eyes wide with glee, and then it bobs out of sight again. I laugh, and hurry inside myself so I can change.

The dress I wear belonged to my mother. It's a pale yellow with sleeves that go to my wrists and has a light blue ribbon around my waist. I pin my light brown hair into a bun and leave my room. If I take any more time there's almost no doubt the bread will be gone before I get downstairs. Spring is actually leaning over the loaves, his mouth half open in longing.

"Spring, stop slobbering all over the bread!" Winter shouts, giggling.

"Is everyone ready?" I ask, inspecting their outfits and hair. When I'm satisfied I take the bread knife down from the fridge and cut the first loaf into eight even slices.

"Now you can each have two and while save the…." I didn't even have time to finish, as Spring pounced on his with vigor, the other two following suit.

"Fank oo!" Winter mumbles, her mouth full of bread. Summer and Spring chorus their thanks as well, and I take my own slices, still slightly warm. Despite the wonderful treat, the bread didn't banish the terror of the Reaping. As we dusted the last crumbs off our lips, skirts, and pants the fear that had been momentarily on the back burner returned. Summer and I are the only children in the Reaping this year, but losing either of us would be detrimental for eight year old Spring and eleven year old Winter.

"Well," I try to say cheerfully, "Best we be off now."

Spring proudly ties his own boots and Winter adjusts Summer's hair ribbons, but we can't stall any more. The Square was relatively close to our house, but the walk seems to take much longer than the usual five minutes because we're weighted down with dread. I try to calm myself, reasoning that the chance Summer or myself will be picked is very slim. Upon reaching check-in, I send Summer ahead of me once she says a temporary good bye to her siblings. I can see Winter's eyes widening and becoming shiny, which is always a sign she's about to cry. I lower myself to her level and kiss her cheeks.

"Winter, honey, everything's going to be okay. I'll see you and Spring in just a few quick moments. When we get home I'll even give you some more bread! How does that sound?" I say, trying to be cheerful.

"Good." She says, fighting back tears, trying to be brave.

"Good." I repeat. "Mrs. Josephine is waiting for you and Spring in the spectator area. On the left side, Winter, right on the edge. You can't miss her. I'll see you both _very_ soon." I kiss Spring's head and send them on their way.

I can see my friends Lillian Hanlow, Mauve Jackson, and Tilly Moonbeam standing together in the sixteen year old area and make a beeline for them.

"Hey Autumn." Tilly greets me with a shaky smile. Tilly has terrible Games anxiety, even worse than the rest of us if you can imagine. I hug her tightly, hoping to give her some strength. We all talk quietly because it just feels uncomfortable and out of place to talk loudly at the Reaping. All discussion is solemn and grave. Our conversations are cut short when Victoria Gabhtat, the District Nine escort taps the microphone sharply. I feel my knees begin to shake, despite my efforts to keep calm.

"**Welcome, welcome, welcome to the 67****th**** annual hunger games!" **Victoria cries her smile revealing blindingly white teeth. "Before we grace two children with the honor of representing District Nine, let's review the history of our glorious country!"

The usual video begins, the narrators deep, heavy voice filling the square. I look at the group of spectators, trying to catch a glimpse of Winter and Spring with Mrs. Josephine, but I just can't find them in the crowd. Before I have time to try to pick out Summer among the thirteen year olds, the video concludes and Tilly grabs my hand, squeezing hard. I give her a reassuring glance and wish I felt as calm as I looked. Victoria's hand dips into the bowl and Tilly whimpers. I turn to her, ripping my eyes from the stage and in the back of my mind hear Victoria shout, "AUTUMN FIELDS!"

I'm frozen. Tilly's eyes widen in horror and her mouth falls open. I feel dizzy, like I'm in a horrible nightmare, one I've had before. I hear someone screaming, a little male voice from the crowd.

"AUTUMN! AUTUMN!" The voice is quieted, like someone is shushing him.

_Spring._

"Spring…." I mumble weakly.

"Will someone get Autumn up here PLEASE?" Victoria asks, impatient. I let go of Tilly's hand, still frozen in grasping mine and begin to walk to the stage. No one speaks to me or reaches out to me. It's like I have the plague. Sobs grew in my throat, but I refused to let them break free.

"AUTUMN!"

I cringe with pain. I'm to the stairs. I walk robotically onstage and stare out into the crowd. Spring, like a dot far away is being taken from the Square by Mrs. Josephine, her arms cradling him gently.

"AUTUMN! _AUTUMN! AUTUMN!"_

My breathing is ragged, and when Victoria asks my name I have to swallow the screams rising in me before I answer, "Autumn Fields."

I don't listen to anything else she says to me and I couldn't hear if I wanted to. Spring's cries ring in my ears.

_Eric Kristensen _POV:

Loneliness. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. The feeling that you're all alone in the world, and that no one loves you, that no one cares. That's the exact feeling I had when I was nine years old. Every time someone tried to be friendly at school and talk to me, I would begin shaking and turn away.

If you tried talking to someone and they just turned away, would you want to be friends with them? Exactly. Not at all. Soon people began to call me, "That creepy Eric kid," It began to definitely take a toll on my self-esteem. There was nothing special about me, nothing at all.

I knew I needed to find something! All I was asking for was one itsy bitsy thing I was good at.

The next day I did.

My parents had left me with the job to cook my father and she's dinner while they went out. They wanted me to find at least something I could do. Something that would help when I was grown and had a family of my own.

That night, I decided to make rosemary roasted chicken. I despised rosemary, but my mother loved it. As I chopped the chicken with a large knife, I began to think. _What if I learned how to throw knives? Surely that would be useful!_ And throw knives I did. I threw knife after knife, each time trying to hit a certain spot on the wall.

I was good. Really good. Until I cut my hand wide open. There was blood, everywhere. On the floor, on the wall, even on the chicken dinner that I had worked so hard on. It was terrible. I've never been a fan of blood, and that experience did little to help my fear. I tied multiple towels around my hand, but the blood soaked through everyone.

I'm sure you can imagine my mother and father weren't very happy when they came home. They had a son with a severe cut, and a ruined dinner. If you were to stay with my family, for an hour even, the first lesson you'd learn that it is a crime to waste food.

"ERIC WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF?" my mother, Merma exclaimed.

"I was trying to learn how to throw knives, to protect myself," I said in a quiet, high pitched, mouse-like voice.

"THAT IS THE SINGLE HANDED STUPIDEST THING YOU COULD DO! ISN'T IT CRISTIAN?" she asked my father.

"Erm, yes . Don't be stupid son," he had said exiting the room.

My mother had groaned clearly annoyed with my father's lack of help.

"Why on earth would you try to do such a thing?" she asked quieter, but still with anger as she examined my wound.

"I said already, to protect myself," I said, as I wiped a tear from my eyes, and as I tried to control my shaking hands.

"Sweetie! You don't need protection! Daddy and I, we're here for you!" she cooed pulling me into a hug. "Swear to me, that you will never, ever try to throw knives again."

"I swear," I promised. But I went back on my promise. I practiced each day, every day. Throwing knives, wielding a sickle, because I knew somehow, that someday these skills would come in handy.

That's what I'm doing now. Throwing some knives, I love doing that; it makes me feel like I have a purpose in the world. Like I'm not just some waste of space.

"Eric darling!" When I hear my mother approaching, I quickly pull my knife off the wall, and throw it underneath the counter. Just in time. My mother comes in about two seconds later, wearing an expression of deep concern. "Eric, you better get ready for the reaping, it's in an hour," Her face goes down, and I see that she is starting to cry.

"What's wrong mom? It's my last year, I didn't take out any tesserae, and I'll be fine,"

"I know I'm just happy,"

"Why?" I'm shocked.

"It's your last year, you've made it!" she says with a weak smile.

"We can't be sure of that yet, mom. Swear to me, that if I get picked, you'll be alright,"

She sighs, "I swear," I embrace her one last time, and excuse myself to my room. I get into my reaping clothes, a nice pair of black pants, with a red shirt, and I'm ready to go.

I'm not worried. I haven't got picked the first five years my names been in that ball, and I don't plan on breaking my streak.

I see my father, sitting by our kitchen table, reading a book, his favorite pastime, and sipping coffee, his favorite drink.

"Don't get picked," he says not even looking up from his book. He's not trying to be mean, he just doesn't like to get emotional. I'm exactly like him, I haven't cried since I was twelve years old, six years ago, at my first reaping. Reapings have always scared me, even if I don't show it. I don't want to leave my family, my nice normal family for the overly perfect capitol.

Most of all, I don't want to die a terrible death.

We walk to the reaping in silence. At a couple points, my mother tries to make conversation by asking us how work is going, in the grain industry, but my dad doesn't say anything, and I just answer with a "great" or an "alright"

We arrive at the town square and I say my goodbyes to my parents. Of course I'll see them soon, I couldn't possibly get picked, right?

I'm trying to get to my place to stand during the reaping but before I can, some pretty girl from school stops me.

"Hey Eric!" she says. "Look, I know I don't really know you are all, but I just wanted to say good luck!"

"Uh, um hi," She gives me a questioning glance and I can't bear it, I turn away and leave.

_How could I be so stupid! I girl finally talks to me, and what do I do? I don't say anything! How could I be-_

My thoughts are interrupted by the beginning of the reaping. Victoria Gabhtat walks, or should I say _Strides _onto the stage. She is wearing a ridiculous green dress, with small yellow flowers on it. She looks absolutely awful.

"Welcome! Welcome! Welcome! To the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" This is what I hate most about the reaping. The escort is always so happy to see the tributes face almost certain death in the arena.

"Before we grace two children with the honor of representing District Nine, let's review the history of our glorious country!" I almost groan at how ridiculous this statement is, but I stop myself right before I do. The reason? There are cameras all over the place.

After the video ends, thank god, Victoria is almost bursting with excitement.

"Alright folks! I hope you're all excited as I am to find out who the next tribute is!" She waits for a response, but when she gets none, she goes on like nothing happened. She slowly walks to the reaping ball, trying to build excitement, and she reaches her hand into the ball and selects one unlucky name.

"Autumn Fields," she says with a huge smile, like it's a big honor and all to be picked.

"AUTUMN!"

The whole crowd whips their heads around to see a little boy screaming for his big sister. This goes on for quite some time, and then finally stops once Autumn approaches the stage. A skinny, brown haired girl walks up to the stage, struggling not to cry.

This is the saddest reaping I've ever been to.

"Next, we will select our lucky young boy!" Victoria exclaims.

_ Not me, not me, it won't be me, It can't be me._

"Eric Kristensen,"

It's me. Just then, my hands begin to shake.

**Yay! We almost have all the slots full! We need three more tributes the girl from district six, the boy from district eight and the boy from twelve, feel free to submit those tributes! Autumn was written by Josielynnt, and I wrote Eric. Thanks for reading!**


	12. District 5 Reaping

_Autumn Alvey POV_

When I wake, the sun is shining through my window. The birds are chirping, and everything seems to be in order.

However, this day is anything but normal. Today is the reaping. Today two 'lucky' children will be ripped from their families, and will have to face only certain death.

But not me. I come from a very wealthy family, as my parents both have paying jobs, I haven't taken out any tesserae, so I'm relatively safe. But even so, I hate going to the reaping. It's horrible. But I know there's no use in worrying about it. These games will never end. Every year, the same thing happens. 23 die brutal deaths, and only one will make it through. The victor will never be the same. No matter what.

I pin my side bangs back, and get dressed. I'm going to visit my friends Tabitha and Hillary before the reaping. I dress in a cute blue shirt, and long white skirt. As I head down stairs, I heard the usual clanging of pans, signaling to me that my mother is yet again attempting to make breakfast. Today, it's scrambled eggs and some sort of sausage that I don't recognize.

"Autumn! Can you please help me?" I see that she is burning the sausage causing the smoke alarm to go off. Again. "Please, go turn the alarm off," I do as am told, and when I come back, I see that my mother has prepared me a plate. There is more cheese than eggs, and the sausages are coal black.

"Want some?" my mom asks doubtfully.

"Umm, no thanks. You couldn't pay me to eat that." Once I see her facial expression I know I've said the wrong thing. "But I'm sure dad would like some!"

"No that's fine," she says sadly as she dumps my pitiful food into the trash can. "Make sure you eat something at Hillary's!"

"I will!" I yell as I exit our home. I begin the short trek to Hillary's house. She only lives four houses away, and I've been friends with her as long as I can remember.

"Hey!" Hillary says as I enter.

"Hey!" I shout back. Hillary's house is large, but not nearly as big as mine. Tabitha hasn't arrived yet, but Hillary welcomes me by serving me peppermint tea, and eggs and biscuits. Real food. Not the crap my mother makes. By the time Tabitha gets here, I have drunk four cups of tea, and I have eaten five biscuits, and two servings of eggs. Delicious. Naturally, our talking turns to the reaping.

"Who do you thinks going to get picked this year?" Tabitha asks nervously.

"I don't know, but I hope it's acne Alice!" Hillary responds with a smirk. Tabitha bursts out laughing, and all I can do is give a weak smile. I think it's horrible that Hillary specifically hopes one person gets picked. I can't say anything though. Hillary's sort-of the leader of our group, and I don't want her to be angry with me. Afterwards, we watch a bit of capitol programming, which Hillary loves, but I despise. And soon enough, it's time for us to go our separate ways to prepare for the reaping. We wish each other luck, not like any of us need it, I take a final biscuit, and then I head out. When I arrive home, I see that my mother has left me a lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches. Are they good? Well at least she didn't attempt to use heat this time. After I'm done with the sandwiches, I head upstairs to take a shower. It's a long shower. I make sure to wash every last bit of grim and dirt off my body.

Well, I suppose that's a bit dramatic. I mean, I showered yesterday. After I'm done, I dry my body and hair, and prepare myself for the reaping. My mother has laid me out my favorite white dress, and matching hair bow.

My dad catches me off guard when he walks into my room. I'm almost done fixing my hair bow when I see him.

"Dad!" I scream shocked.

"Sorry, hun. You look beautiful, I love you."

"Dad, please don't be dramatic! It's not like I'm going to get picked or anything!"

"I know sweetie, I know." We walk down the stairs together, hand and hand. I guess if I had to rate which parent I was closest to, I say my dad. It's not like I don't love my mom or anything, I can just relate to my dad more.

When I arrive downstairs, my mom is waiting for me with a camera.

"Autumn! You look so beautiful!" she squeals as she snaps a picture. Every reaping, she insists on taking a picture of me to 'show my process, and development.' I couldn't care less. After were done with that nonsense, I see that my mother has laid out all of my previous reaping pictures. I guess it is kinda cool to have them. I really have changed. From the crying twelve year old, to the sixteen year old with the _whatever_ face, I can see that I've grown up. Suddenly, I realize that if I get picked, the set of pictures will never be finished. _No. No. It won't be me. It can't be me. My name's in there five times. Some kids have their names in over twenty times. It won't be me._

We begin the long walk to the square. As we walk, I really do begin to ponder who will be picked. Maybe it _will_ be 'acne Alice.' Maybe it will be Hillary. Maybe it will be Tabitha. Maybe it will be me. No, it won't be anyone I know. It won't be.

When we arrive at the square, there are only a couple people there.

"Mom, what time is it?" I ask.

"It's nine, sweetie."

"Nine? The reaping starts at ten! Why are we here so early?" But instead of giving me an actual answer, she just shrugs and tells me to go get checked in. The escort isn't even here yet. Great.

I get checked in, enjoying that there is no line, and go sit on one of the square benches. Tabitha is my first friend to get there, so we both go walk to our spot to stand during the reaping. Tabitha is always extremely worried about the reapings. She's shaking, and talks very little.

A flustered Hillary arrives about three minutes before the reaping, just as Patrice Lamn begins to take her place on the stage. She's so excited she almost falls down a couple of times. It's sickening. How she thinks kids getting sent to their deaths is fu-. My thoughts are interrupted by the film starting. It's the same film everysingle year. I think it's been the same one since the games started. By the time the film is over, Patrice in almost hyperventilating with excitement.

"And now, for the girls!" Patrice squeals. _Oh god, what unlucky soul will it be this year…_

"Autumn Alvey!" Just then, my body begins to shake. Why? That unlucky soul is me.

_Oliver Peterson POV_

I can feel someone pressing their fingers into my shoulder. Whoever it is has deathly sharp fingernails. I groan and roll to the other side. This turns out to be a bad idea, as I roll off the blanket and into the dirt street, still damp from the earlier rain.

"_Oliver!" _A female voice hisses. The fingernails are back, poking insistently.

I groggily open my eyes, my brain still in a fog. A girl's face peers back at me, her dark hair framing a pretty face and luminous violet eyes. Seriously I can see those eyes even in the dark on the street. There's supposed to be a street light but it burned out weeks ago and no Peace Keeper's seem to care.

The girl moves closer and I instantly recognize her.

"Ariana! What the…." I manage to shout and whisper at the same time, as to not wake the rest of my family.

"Shut up, Oliver. Just shut up and follow me." She snaps. "We don't want them to wake up." She gestures to my older brother Samuel and my younger sister Marie curled up on the ragged blanket that serves as our home base. My mother is snoring slightly on the left edge, looking more peaceful than I've seen her in weeks.

I sigh and pull my sack from under my edge of the blanket, swinging it over my shoulder. Of course Ariana is already gone, darting in between different buildings. How she expects me to follow is beyond me, but I smile slightly. Ariana Moore has been my best friend ever since my father died when he was electrocuted at work and my family struggled for food and shelter.

It was late at night and I was heading home from the power plant. I had taken on a job as an errand boy at the company to make ends meet, but it wasn't enough. Feeling frustrated, I turned the corner into the Square, which was deserted at the hour I got off. Out of the shadows came some "tough" boys I had known from school. They leered at me, and the leader started to call out to me, mocking me. When I didn't respond, they started on my family. They said we were worthless, about to be on the street. They called my mother and sister unspeakable names, teased my brother. Still I ignored them, although the anger was boiling inside me, heating me from the inside. Then the leader, his voice full of hateful malice, shouted, "Nice father you had there Peterson! Everyone still talks about him you know! Stupid old Marcus, got himself killed! HA! The idiot went and ELETROCUTED himself! Like father like son I guess….Neither smarter than a hog's AS…."

I sprinted at them, pummeling him with my fists, wanting to make every inch feel pain. I'm usually pretty clever and if I was to watch a fight I could tell the fighter exactly what to do to be victorious, but in the heat of the moment I lose all my sense. His other five groupies were on me in a second. My nose cracked in pain, my face stung, and one of the burliest had his foot on my throat, squeezing out the last of my breath. I was seeing black, my vision fading, my head ringing, when the pressure on my neck was alleviated. Choking and gasping, I sprung up, ready to defend myself. But I didn't have to.

A figure, his face shrouded in shadow, was taking on all six of the boys. He looked twig skinny, but his arms and legs were strong, kicking and punching like a machine. One kid was actually flung back onto the cobble stones and knocked out cold. The leader was punched viciously across the face and then kicked to the ground when he reached to cover his injured face. I wanted to help the fighter, but I seemed to be rooted to the ground, my mouth open. He fought them off for what seemed like years until a Peace Keeper came running into the Square with a flashlight, screaming at us. We all scrambled away in different directions. When I looked back, the fighter boy was following me. Once I had reached out ramshackle house that we would be kicked from in a month's time, I turned to face my savoir.

It was not a boy. The figure pulled the hood from her head, and a long braid uncoiled, ending at the middle of her back. She walked into the light of the streetlight and I positively gawked. She glared at me, and I'll never forget her first words, "Am I going to be expected to save your sorry ass from now on or is this just going to be a one -time thing?"

That's Ariana for you. Ever since she's been my only friend and I can always count on her to be my wing-woman in fights. She also helps out my family as much as she can. She's a street kid too, but without anyone else. No family whatsoever. She won't tell me what happened to her family, says she doesn't want to talk about it, that it's too painful and that's just fine with me.

I'm shaken from my memories when her head appears from the side of the building, glaring at me.

"_Hurry up!"_ She hisses.

I roll my eyes and jog after her. We run steadily in silence. The night is reasonably warm until a breeze blows through. I shiver slightly. Ariana doesn't.

Finally we reach her designated location. The edge of District 5 where the electric fence hums. I shiver again, though not from the cold, from thoughts of a hum that warned my father long ago.

Ariana turns to me and whispers, "Wait here." Then she's off. Less than a minute later she returns with a basket full of some kind of plant. Its leaves are pale yellow, while the stem is deep green.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Caborott Leaves. It's for Marie's bad cough. Just grind some of these up and I'll bring over some hot water before the Reaping. We'll put the grinded leaves in the water, let it sit, and then she can drink it. It'll take care of it. I had to wake you up because I got these really late and had to hide when a Peace Keeper started doing rounds."

"Caborott? Ariana that's amazing! Where did you get this?" I ask, very aware of Caborott's respiratory powers.

She gives me a look and says, "I don't think you need to know that, _Ollie."_

"You know I hate that…_Ari._"

She grimaces at me, and then looks over her shoulder quickly.

"Got to go. See you tomorrow." And she's gone.

I sigh and jog back to the blanket with equal speed. It wouldn't do anyone any good if I get caught with this Caborott. Once I'm back, I'm tired again, my eyes fluttering as I stuff the Caborott into my sack, which then goes underneath the blanket. The basket is nice and sturdy. I put it in between Marie and me so I can sell it tomorrow after the Reaping for something. My eyes flutter shut and this time I let them close, slipping into a deep sleep.

Marie is hacking, practically in my ear. I grumble, not even sure what I'm trying to say. I'm suddenly aware of someone pulling my sack from above my head, and I snap to attention, clamping my hand on it before I even sit up.

"For God's sake Oliver!" Ariana's irritated voice sounds.

I blearily peer at the witch that is my best friend.

"Twice in less than 24 hours Ariana." I grumble, glaring at her with one eye open.

She smiles sweetly and yanks my sack out from under my hand and down I go, too tired to catch myself.

I stay down, neither able to fall asleep or fully wake up enough to sit up. I can hear Ariana selecting a stone and I assume she's starting the process of grinding the Caborott. When I gather enough stamina to sit up, she's already pouring the dregs into the hot water and stirring it with a stick. Once she's satisfied, Marie sips it and makes a disgusted face.

"Drink it _all._" Ariana instructs sternly.

Marie sighs continues sipping. Samuel is sitting on the far side of the blanket with Mother, who is running a wet comb through his hair in an effort to smooth it.

"I'm not even in the Reaping pool this year!" Sam complains, but Mother just yanks harder. Sam is nineteen and has avoided the Games. Marie, 15, and I, 17, are still eligible.

"You better hurry up and finish that Marie. It's almost time for the Reaping." Mother says. She pats Sam's shoulder and motions me over.

"You next."

I sigh and drag myself to my mother's side. She tugs the comb through my hair, to no avail.

"I'm going to have to cut this Oliver. It's like a wet mop!" She jokes, smiling.

Ariana sniggers quietly until I give her a look. Then she laughs even louder.

Marie groans and clanks her empty cup to the ground with vigor.

"That….. Was disgusting. But thank you."

Ariana nods and says, "Okay! Just one more cup and you'll be set!"

Marie blanches, grimacing.

Ariana grins and pats her shoulder, "Just kidding, Marie. We're ready."

Mother gives one last desperate, (and painful), yank, pulling out several strands of my dark brown hair, and then we all set off for the Square. The crowds of District Five citizens heading to the Reaping are silent. All talking is whispered in hushed tones, making the overall atmosphere uncomfortable. Nervous twelve year olds grasp their mother's hands tightly like they're life preservers. One boy with icy blue eyes and dark hair actually has his face buried in his father's side, giving me an all too vivid sense of déjà vu. Five years ago, a boy with dark brown hair and blue eyes had clutched his father on the way to his first Reaping, not knowing his father would die in three month's time. I look away.

We reach the check-in lines, and I turn to face my mother, her eyes shiny with tears.

Uncomfortably, I hug her and say simply, "See you soon Mom."

Ariana is already a few people ahead of me in line. I see her reach the desk and as the Capitol official asks for her hand, she turns and quickly crosses her eyes at me. The Capitol official appears not to see, but a little girl in line behind her giggles, nerves of being pricked momentarily forgotten. When Ariana is finished, the girl steps to the desk, shaking again. Ariana watches her for a second, then leans in to her and whispers something in her ear. The girl nods and slowly surrenders her finger. A small gasp and it's over. She smiles up at Ariana, who waves to me and leads her away.

It's amazing how lovely Ariana can be when she wants to. It shows she's not as hard as she makes herself out to be.

Once I'm registered and in my spot with the seventeen year olds, I wait, not attempting to hide my yawns. My little excursion last night had not done me any favors. I'm almost relieved when Patrice Lamn appears onstage, her oversized red bow wobbling precariously. The sooner this is over the sooner I can get back to our blanket and nap. Patrice blabbers on and on about how special these Hunger Games are and how fantastic the Capitol is, all the while my eyes drooping. During the film I actually close them fully, day dreaming of the soft, worn blanket and a lengthy slumber with no fingernails digging into my shoulder.

"And now for the girls!" Shrieks Patrice. I groan, opening my eyes and adding loud mouthed Capitol officials to my list of things I wish never to EVER happen while I'm asleep. She reaches dramatically into the girl's bowl, her bow attempting to wiggle free as she looks down.

"Autumn Alvey!" Patrice hollers.

Autumn Alvey starts her trek to the stage. I know her from my past years at school. We were in the same class but she was popular and snobby, so our paths didn't cross much. Even though I never liked her, she was never outright too mean to anyone and I feel bad watching her shaking hard as she slinks onto the stage. Poor Autumn.

I'm so tired my eyes actually droop again. Halfway through a yawn, I hear Patrice announcing that it was time for the boy tribute. Then I end up yawning again and just as I'm starting up I hear, "Oliver Peterson!"

My face freezes in mid yawn and I quickly shut my mouth. Fury grows in me, replacing my surprise. What did I do to deserve this? What did my family do to deserve all this? I'm almost shaking with anger, but I slip a mental mask over my face and stroll to the stage, attempting to look impassive as possible. As I pass Ariana I see her face for once without her tight, uncaring expression. She looks lost, pained even. I tear my eyes away from her and fix my gaze at Patrice's bow, anger bubbling inside of me. Once I'm standing onstage I look off in the distance, anger burning like acid.

**Hey! Hope you liked this chapter! Josie took on Oliver, and I worked on Autumn. We love writing for you guys and we hope you enjoy reading! We still have one spot left, the district six female, so if you are interested please submit! We will be going on a trip soon, so there will not be any updates for a couple days. Also with school starting, it will be harder to do our usual daily update, but we'll try to update when we can! **

**Torystory93 and josielynnt **


	13. District 10 Reapings

_Julia Lamberson POV_

"Jule. Jule, wake up," my father, Colt, says shaking me awake.

"What?"

"Honey, can you go talk to Jessica? She'll only talk to you,"

I sigh, put on my housecoat and trudge over to Jessica's room. I know it's about the Hunger Games. The reaping is today, and she's been worried about it for weeks. I can hear her crying softly from the outside.

"Jess? What's wrong?"

"I'm going to get picked," she sobs.

"No, you won't get picked honey, we each took two tesserae, so your name is only in there three times," Believe me; I didn't want her to take out any tesserae. But she insisted that I let her take out two.

"Three times! I could get picked!"

"Jessica Jane Lamberson," I say taking her hand. "You will not get picked. I swear to you that," This seems to calm her down, and I know that, because she smiles at me.

"Well, I guess,"

"Come on, there's no use worrying, let's go help out the Millers," The Millers are our neighbors, and they own a huge ranch next to our tiny little house. Luckily for us, they have two twin children, Jane, and Jack, who are my best friends in the whole world. We often go there to assist them in managing the ranch. With a ranch that size, they need all the help they can get. For now, the only job Jessica and I can do is help the Miller's dog, Spots, herd the sheep. Next year, I get to help out with the horses! Horses are my favorite animal, and it's my dream to help with them.

The Millers have a reason for not letting me help the horses yet though. Jack is kind of a klutz, and he once fed the horses the pig food. It wasn't pretty.

I head to my room and dress for the day. I don't let Jessica know, but I hate the reaping's as well. It's terrible. Every year, the night of the reaping, I end up crying for the children who got picked. The only person I knew personally who got picked was, Luke Cator. He was my mother's friend's child. I hated him, he called me names and chased me around the house. But when he was reaped at twelve years old, that all went away. I felt nothing but pity, and remorse. I was ten then, and I suddenly realized, that could be me someday. Luke never came back. Well he did, but in a wooden box, dead.

I meet up with Jessica, and we walk together, hand and hand over to the Miller's. We've been taught not to ring the doorbell, so we just walk into the back yard over to the sheep pen. Along the way, I run into Jack, who's hanging out with my other guy friend, George Gall. George is extremely poor, and his name is in the reaping bowl at least twenty times. I decide it wouldn't be a good idea to mention that.

"Hey guys!"

"Hi, Julia!" they answer back.

"What's up?"

"Spots has been acting weird. We're starting to think she's pregnant." Jack answers.

"Pregnant?" Jessica and I say at the same time.

"Yep. It could be bad if she is though, what will we do with all the puppies?"

"I'll take them!" Jessica exclaims. Everyone laughs, leaving Jessica wondering why this is so funny.

"I'll tend to Spots," I say.

"Yes, that sounds good. Jane is already there, but she could use some help. Jess, why don't you come over and help George and I with the pigs," Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jessica groan. She hates the pigs, well mostly just how they smell. I run over to where Spots is kept, and I see Jane, rubbing Spot's belly.

"Hey," I say breathlessly.

"Hey," Jane says back.

"So you think she's really pregnant?"

"I don't think, I know."

"How?"

"I can feel the egg sacks, she's going to have six puppies,"

"That's great!" I say.

"No, it's not. You see, we don't have proper medical equipment, if we mess up, both Spots and the puppies could die."

"Oh,"

"We have to try our best though, right?"

"Right," I say. We spend the next couple of hours rubbing Spot's belly, feeding her warm brews, and snuggling her. Before for long, I bid Jane farewell, and go to collect Jessica. When I arrive, I see that Jessica is scooping the pig slop into the wooden manger, looking terribly disgusted. As far as I can remember Jessica has always hated pigs.

"Jessie!" I say. "It's time to get ready for the reaping!" Her face blanches and I see her wave goodbye to Jack and George, and she runs towards me, her short brown hair flying behind her. I take her hand and I see that she has begun to cry.

"I didn't want to cry in front of George," she sobs. Jess has had a crush on George ever since she met him. As far as I know, George has no idea, and even if he did he wouldn't care anyway. He's that nice of a guy. Jessica cries the whole way home, and the only thing I can do is rub her back, and try to comfort her in some way. I know exactly how she's feeling though. At my first reaping, I was crying so loudly you almost couldn't hear the escort announce the names.

I abandon Jessica at her room, and head off to my own. I try to ignore my thoughts and trembling hands as I get into my reaping clothes. My hair is relatively clean, so why should I bother to wash it? Why should I try to impress the captiol?

My reaping outfit is a plain white shirt with fancy black pants. I don't like it much, but again, why should I try to impress the captiol? I exit my room, worrying that this will be the last time I will ever be in it. I try to shake that thought from my head. If I ever did get reaped, I definitely would not come home. I couldn't kill to save my life, as blood disgusts me, but even if I could, I'm not sure I would want to come back. I've seen the past victors on TV, the way the move, the way their faces look. They are broken.

I exit my room, and meet Jessica at her room. She's wearing a pretty green gown with buttons, but her facial expression is far from pretty. She's sobbing, leaving large wet spots on her dress, her hair is messy and tangled, making her look homeless, and she looks truly distressed.

"It will be fine, you won't get picked," I say over and over again. I don't think I'm very convincing with my hands shaking and all, but luckily my mother comes and calms down Jessica.

We walk to the reaping in silence. The only sound is Jessica's sobs, which are muffled by an embroidered handkerchief that I gave to her when she turned eleven. When we reach the square, my mom and dad depart without a word, only nervous glances towards us. We go to check in, and it takes about five minutes for Jessica to let the woman prick her finger, much to the annoyance of the others in line, and we go to get lined up.

"You won't get picked," I say, and then I start to walk off, but then turn right back around. I give her a huge hug, and we just say I love you, over and over again. Finally, when Kennedy Kristen begins her spiel, we have to depart.

I still hear Jessica's sobs as I take my place next to Jane who gives me a nervous frown, and then turns her focus to the front to watch the video. I hate the video, I've seen the same one for fourteen years now, and it never gets anymore interesting.

When it's over, Kennedy walks to the reaping bowl, and dramatically pulls out a name.

_Not me. Not Jess. Not me. Not me._

"JESSICA LAMBERSON!" The name hits me like one thousand knives. It's her. Jessica. The one I love, and have known since I was two.

She walks up to the stage her shoulders shaking, and before I know what I'm doing, I scream, "I VOLUNTEER!"

_I'm dead._

_Logan Whyte POV_

The grass is wet with dew and when I move my head groggily sprinkles of water rain down on me. I raise a hand to wipe them away, but instead become aware that my hands are damp too. Sitting up, I can see my holey mat is once again underneath my eight year old brother Julian. He claims he takes it in his sleep, but I know he hates how wet his thin blanket gets at night. My mat, although it's been through the wringer, keeps my back dry if it's not stole out from under me. I can't figure out if I'm just a heavy sleeper or Julian is really stealthy. I try to get angry at him but fail miserably. Julian is the best brother I could have and it's Reaping day. He doesn't need to have me on his case today.

Even though Julian's only eight he's pretty much a spitting image of me with his dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. The only difference in our appearances is the small scar on my chin from a fight four years ago with a street boy named Gabriel. It was the first time I had ever stolen something and I hadn't been careful enough. He had seen me snatch the bread from the baker's and offered me a deal. If I gave him the bread, he wouldn't report me to the Peace Keeper's. I was a scared eight year old orphan who was desperate to feed his sick four year old brother and I didn't want to give up my food, which was an issue for Gabriel. It was nowhere near a fair fight. Gabriel was thirteen and a skilled fighter. He beat me up, left me with a scar, and took the bread. I was too inexperienced to know he would never go to the Peace Keepers in fear of being punished for past crimes and returned to crying, starving, Julian with nothing.

The reason Julian was starving is because our mother, or lack of. My mother, Dara, left us five years ago. It was sudden, with no warning, and she didn't even attempt to give us a way to survive. She never revealed who our father was so we could seek his help, never directed us to a safe place. Nothing. She had lost her job with the livestock at a Capitol farm and we watched our somewhat comfortable life crash down around us. When my mother no longer could bring any food to the table, it was easy to see the frustration and desperation in her eyes. She was greedy and wanted any food for herself, not for us. One night she stole away, stripping the house of her belongings. When Julian and I awoke our home was nearly bare and there was no note with an explanation or even a goodbye. Our mother was never very affectionate, but we never expected this. Julian and I of course lost the house nearly immediately and ended up on the streets living off of other people's scraps and trash. For the first year, I had a wild notion that I could find my father. All I knew was that he and my mother had fallen madly in love and a year later I had been born. They were about to be married shortly after, but had an enormous fight and split up. He never visited, and I had no idea what he looked like or who he was. Then, when I was four years old, my mother began to go out quite often. She would get home from work, shower, change, and go off somewhere, usually making some excuse and leaving me with the neighbors. I was only four so this pattern meant nothing at the time. It was only when I looked back that I realized what had happened. My father and mother reconnected and soon after Julian was born. However, this time my father was already involved with another woman, so he panicked and left my mother with a new son once again. We never heard of him again.

A stirring from behind pulls me from my thoughts. I turn and see Eve Hunter open her eyes and yawn hugely. She nearly rolls from her blanket that we salvaged from a families trash right into Julian, but she stops in time and struggles to sit up.

"Hey Logan." She says, sleepily tossing her curly red hair from her eyes.

"Hey Eve. Want anything from last night?" I gesture towards our ragged backpack that stores food. Last night we managed to make off with two rolls that baked into imperfect contorted looking shapes. They had been discarded in the trash and we had triumphantly collected them. Yesterday we had taken thin slices so it wouldn't be wasted and stored the rest.

"Just a little. I want you and Julian to have a good chunk." She says, not voicing another reason I know she doesn't want more bread. It's Reaping day. That will make anyone lose their appetite.

While Eve tears a small piece from one roll, I gently shake Julian who groans and tries to wiggle away from me.

"Julian…Julian…Come on, we have to get ready for the Reaping."

His eyes finally open after several false attempts and he starts to sit up only once he sees the rolls.

"Logan, can I have some?" He asks, his little eyes gleaming with hunger.

I tear a large chunk off for my brother, hand it to him, and take my tiny chunk that's left. He needs it more than I do and Eve knows that, but she still gives me a disapproving look. I look away from her and instead and look out over the fields coming to life. Our 'home' is stationed as close to the forest as we can get in a little grove of trees right off a farmer's fields. The fields are a nice view and the workers that constantly stream by are pleasant and understanding. We try to keep our heads down and out of people's way, although I've been known to fight more than I want to. I can hear the crowd gathering in the Square far off and I hurry Julian to finish his bread. Eve is already fussing with his hair and ragged clothes. She uses her sleeve to try and wipe some of the grime from his face to no avail. Once she finally gives up, I camouflage our camp and throw my backpack over my shoulder.

The walk to the Square isn't terribly long, especially with Julian rushing along like the eight year old he is. I feel a kind of ache of desperation, wishing that I could be going anywhere but my first Reaping. Julian and Eve need me. Eve does a great job of helping with Julian, but she isn't ready to take full responsibility for him. If I get sent into the arena I most likely won't return which will leave them in bad shape. I'm not trying to say Eve's helpless, but she doesn't know the street like I do, and when her parents died we took her in.

Eve had been starving to death. It was fall, and winter was nearly setting in. I found her by the dumpsters one night when I went scavenging. She had apparently been doing the same thing and became so weak she couldn't even stand. I half-carried, half-dragged her to Julian. We didn't have much to offer but a couple torn, aged blankets, meager food supply, and street smarts, but we saved her life and it's something I'm so proud of.

Eve touches my shoulder gently and softly, so Julian can't hear, says, "You have to calm down. You're shaking and Julian will get frightened if he notices."

"I can't leave you guys." I say, trying to keep the stupid shake out of my voice.

"You won't. You won't get picked Logan. You just won't." She replies firmly.

"You can't know that. And if I do, what will happen to you and Julian?"

"First of all, you would come back to us." Eve sounds sure, but her eyes say something else entirely.

I snort without humor and Julian turns around.

"What were you talking about?" He asks, walking back to us.

"Nothing." I end the conversation there.

The Square is thick with District 10 citizens, some talking at loud volumes, young children clinging to their parents. I see one father desperately trying to convince his hysterical son to go to his place. He has to be a twelve year old heading to his first Reaping and I can't blame him for his terror.

We reach the check in, and my stomach pretty much falls out. My first Reaping. No parents to seek comfort in, none to hold on to, even though I've grown fast and shouldn't need that anymore. I swallow and try not to let the anxiety show on my face. It wouldn't do anyone any good to have a sobbing Julian in the middle of the Square. I turn to him and give Julian a quick hug.

"Julian, go wait for Eve and I with the spectators and after all of this is over I'll come get you. Wait for us by the barrel over there." He nods warily.

Julian starts to walk away, but turns back as though he wants to say something. Finally he just sighs and continues on, shoulders slumping. I can't look away from him until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"He's going to be okay. Soon we'll be back with him heading home." Eve whispers confidently.

"I know." I say, not wanting to argue with her. I just want this to be over. I give Eve a quick hug and check in, feeling like I'm in a nightmare. We really were running late because Kennedy Kristan bounces on stage as I settle in with the twelve year olds. She walks on so energetically that she actually trips, catching herself just in time. Her face might have gotten red but no one would have been able to see it under all that makeup. Kennedy recovers like a heavily trained pro with a dramatically slow wave and a colossal smile.

"Hello, hello everybody! Let's all get excited for the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" Kennedy's cheeks will explode any second now.

"Before we select the tributes for District 10, let us watch that special video we all know and love!"

By the time the video rolls around to its grand finish, I feel ready to pass out. The terror and suspense is killing me. I have to come back to Julian and Eve. There's no way I can get chosen.

"Jessica Lamberson!" Kennedy shouts with gusto.

_._

She was in my class in school when I attended. She has short brown hair, is very petite, and is twelve, like me. Jessica is always really sweet and nice to everyone. Of course I'll hope that she makes it out, but there's no way she'll stand even the slightest chance in the arena. I can see her emerging from the twelve year old girl's area and I can see her shoulders shaking even from this distance.

The shriek makes us all jump.

"I VOLUNTEER!"

Kennedy gasps dramatically and puts her hand to her chest. We all turn to see Jessica's savoir and it turns out to, of course, be her fourteen year old sister, Julia. I never really interacted with Julia, but I've seen her with Jessica before and they seem to be very close. Jessica tries to run back to Julia, but Peace Keeper's contain her. When she starts to scream, they drag her out of the Square, and Mrs. Lamberson, tears running down her face, rushes after them. Julia reaches the stage and relays her name to Kennedy, who is obviously very excited with the turn of events. Julia seems to be on the verge of tears, but she holds them back, staring at a fixed point in the distance. I'm focusing on her expression when I hear Kennedy's call ring across the Square.

"Logan Whyte!"

_No._

_NO._

"LOGAN WHYTE!" Kennedy calls again, giggling nervously. "LOGAN!"

My feet start to move without my consent. They kick up dirt as I shuffle by, struggling to hold down sobs. It won't look good for me to be crying like a baby. My lip shakes uncontrollably.

By the time I reach the stage I feel about to lose it. Good thing I'm the second tribute and not the first. When I shake hands with Julia I can see the tears swimming in her eyes. Why is it that when someone else is crying it makes you feel like crying even more?

I blink back tears as I turn to face my district.

**Hey everybody! How did you like that chapter? We apologize for the super long wait L We went on vacation, then it was our brother's birthday, and then we started school today. Sorry! But here's a chapter so don't throw watermelon at us! We hope to be updating pretty consistently even though we're busier now! josielynnt wrote Logan Whyte and torystory93 wrote Julia **


	14. District 11 Reapings

_Abrianna Restuc POV_

I run down the streets of District 11, keeping my footsteps as silent as possible. If any Peace Keepers hear me they might think I've stolen something and won't hesitate to shoot first, then ask questions. I've learned from experience. The first time I went out they almost got me right in the head. Once I explained and quickly said running focuses my energy into my work in the fields, they actually were reasonable for once and gave me a pass. It has my I.D. picture and information. Believe me, when they stopped me I almost fainted. The District 11 Peace Keepers are not anyone's friend. Step over the line and it will be your last time. I was lucky.

I can feel my face heating as I run, but I don't sweat much. My skin is mostly clammy, but not wet. I've run enough that it's second nature. I wasn't completely lying to the Peace Keepers. Running really does focus my energy and release my frustrations. I have no problem getting up early if it means I can run. I can fly.

The first time I ran that I can remember was when I was five. My father, Seth Restuc, was leaving for his job in the fields early in the morning. Usually I was up, being the early riser I always have been, but on that day I slept a little later and missed our goodbye hug. He was already to the door, and I ran all the way down the stairs. I remember how good, how freeing it felt to have that energy burst from me. Ever since, I relished ever chance to run. When I was twelve I started running to work, feeling the fresh air on my face, my legs humming from the effort when I sadly stopped. A Peace Keeper yelled at me eventually, saying he thought I was a criminal every time I came tearing in, so I couldn't run to work. At sixteen, thinking I was crafty, I took to the streets in early morning to get my run in before work. The first time I was caught, but luckily not shot. The only explanation I could come up with for why I was spared was that they wanted to see if I actually liked running and wasn't giving them some crazy answer to cover up wrong-doing. Instead of punishment, I got a gift.

My feet get louder and I shift my stride so it doesn't make such echoing sound. I'm almost home, so I speed up, sprinting, wind making my eyes narrow. Faster, faster, until I reach my crumbling wooden fence. I tap the same plank as I always do, and slow to a walk, going around my house.

The inside of the house is cool, good for someone returning from a run, but difficult to have warm sleep at night. As I walk in, I pick up the large buckets we use for bath water and head for the well. Every couple of blocks there are standard, Capitol issued wells. They could install us convenient pluming, but of course us lowly District Eleven citizens aren't worthy. Because it's Reaping Day, I'm obligated to take a bath, which means lugging bucket after bucket of water to our bathing basin. Luckily, after a run I don't need it to be heated, which would be even more of a task.

After trip after trip, the basin is filled. It's behind a makeshift curtain in the living area made from a ratty old bed sheet. I choose one bucket for rinsing, grab the old bar of soap that smells like flowers, the scrub brush and get to business.

Once I'm cleansed I turn to where I usually hang my clothes to change into and groan. I forgot them. AGAIN. Luckily, or unfortunately, this happens often. My emergency bed sheet is hung on the rack in the corner, so I grab that and hurry upstairs, even though this time there isn't anyone awake yet to see my ridiculous hobbling. Or so I thought. As I wriggle upstairs, my ten year old sister Mercedes appears at the top. When she sees my bathrobe dress her nervous and apprehensive expression disappears momentarily. She bursts out laughing, a big happy sound.

"Shhh…. Mom and Dad…." I try to shush her so she won't wake our parents, but I'm laughing too. I take a step forward but trip on my gown and almost fall flat onto the stairs, which only makes us cackle louder. Despite my efforts, our drowsy father appears behind Mercedes, his eyes unfocused. He obviously was about to question what we were laughing about, but seeing my outfit was answer enough. He grinned, hiding his laughter and put his hands on Mercedes shoulders, steering her into his room.

"Come on Merce, let's let your sister getting situated. We can talk to Mom until she's dressed."

Mercedes headed off with him, snickering. Once the door had shut I fumbled to my room and dressed in a simple dress. I would change for the Reaping after I met with my friends. Usually I would report to work, but Reaping Day was a "special occasion". Some Capitol citizens actually had the gall to call it a "holiday."

I felt a little tingle of hope. _One more Reaping._

At least for me. When Mercedes was twelve I would know a whole new terror.

I brushed my short, wavy, black hair, then walked across the narrow hallway and knocked on my parent's door gently. Moments later my father's face appeared in the door.

"Going to Jordyn's?" He whispered.

"Yes." I answered. "Mom still sleeping?"

"Of course." He grinned.

Even though Mom worries herself sick before the Reaping, nothing can ever wake Ivonne Restuc from her sleep. She loves it and hardly gets any of it, so on Reaping Day when she can sleep in for once Dad practically has to toss her down the stairs.

I jog lightly to Jordyn's house. She's seventeen, a year younger, but we're best friends. I constantly mend her brother Jonah's clothing. That's another thing I do. I mend very well, and I'm happy to do it for anyone in need. I also make inventive clothing for the poor, like my family, out of scraps of any fabric or cloth I can find. Once, using a discarded pair of overalls and a burlap sack I conjured up a nice dress for the most adorable little five year old girl named Rue. I still see her dancing through the fields after her mother wearing it, which just makes me feel warm and proud.

I've been taught to just walk into Jordyn's house, so I push the door open and enter. Jordyn's mother looks up from the stove as I walk in and smiles. A wave of sweet bread and egg rolls over me.

"Hi Abrianna. Everyone is out back." She says, waving her fork.

"Thanks Mrs. Astlock." I breeze out to the Astlock's small little wooden table in their backyard.

Jordyn sits on her boyfriend Leo Stroles lap, cutting off a slice of fresh bread from the small loaf on the table. Her mother always makes an effort to get even a roll of fresh bread for Reaping Day. The other occupant of the table is Nicole, another of my good friends. She waves and Jordyn gets up to hug me.

"Hey Abby." Leo calls, grinning teasingly at me.

"It's _Abrianna."_ I sigh, knowing it's pointless. This has been his greeting since we were eight.

"Can you just not joke around today Leo? It's a little stressful in case you haven't noticed." Nicole says, shivering.

"Everyone needs a little humor in their lives Nicole. Besides it's your last Reaping! Isn't that something to be excited about?" Leo responds, but I notice he hold Jordyn a little tighter. She's only seventeen.

"Just because we're eighteen doesn't mean we have any less of a chance. It just takes one Reaping." Nicole responds.

"Honestly Nicole, just stop. I don't want to think about it. That's too morbid and scary." Jordyn interjects calmly, but I can tell she's afraid.

District Eleven tributes rarely make it out of the arena. We have next to no training and unless we are pretty much super human in our private sessions, sponsors are scarce. The Reaping is a terrible time of year for all of us.

The conversation drifts lazily, purposely avoiding anything frightening. After a few hours, and some special honey that we rarely get for our bread, Mrs. Astlock warns us that we need to get home and prepare for the Reaping.

I hug my friends and jog back home. Mercedes is no longer laughing. She always worries that I'll get picked and leave her. My mother is finally up, French braiding Mercedes' long black brown hair. It goes down to the middle of her back and is totally impractical for her work coming up in the fields, but she just loves it too much. My father drinks hot water at the table. He would love tea or even just hot water with honey, but we're too poor to get anything like that. Occasionally he finds safe herbs or I use my mending money that I sometimes acquire when the customer desires to buy honey, but otherwise it's just hot water. He never complains though. It's nice, hot, and he likes his peaceful trip to the well so he can get the water to heat.

Waving, I rush upstairs as to not make my family late. Minutes later I'm in my pretty lavender dress with sleeves to my wrists. I found the material on the ground and after a few washings it was good as new. In its past life it appeared to be a scarf or a wrap. Maybe someone used it to cover their head when in the fields to protect them from the sun. I paired that with another roll of fabric almost the same color from my friend in the clothing outpost and created the dress. My mother offered me her old spring grass green dress that I love, but I wanted to make something for myself.

My hair is short enough to hang loose, so I clip some to the side with a sparkly butterfly clip from my mother's childhood. Although I went as fast as possible, when my feet hit the first floor landing I'm ushered out the door by my parents.

District 11 citizens stream from their houses towards the Square. Here, poverty is evident in nearly everyone. I see a small boy wearing what must be a shirt, but is so torn and dirtied that it's beyond identification. We are instructed to wear our best to the Reaping, but this is his best. His mother's face is gaunt, her arms skeletal. Her eyes seem distant, as though if she removes herself from reality it won't hurt as much. She obviously washed her face, but her hair is streaked with dirt and her body blackened with grime. This woman must live in the even worse off parts of the district, where wells are further away from the homes. My heart aches for her. I tap my father on the shoulder and tilt my head towards her. He nods and I break away.

"Ma'am?" I say, gently tapping her shoulder.

"Yes?" She looks confused, even afraid.

"Hi!" Her small boy chirps enthusiastically.

"Hi!" I respond, smiling at him. I turn back to his mother and continue.

"I make my own clothes and clothes for others from scraps I find and scavenge. I actually made the dress I'm wearing. My work is high quality and I don't charge. If you tell me where you live I can stop by, take his or your measurements and get to work. I'd be happy to help."

"I don't want charity." She says, although I can see the hope in her eyes. She wants her child clothed and warm, so her resolve and attempt to save her pride is weak.

"I don't do charity. I'm just friendly and can't stand seeing people suffer, especially when it isn't their fault." I respond firmly but kindly.

Finally, she smiles shyly.

"Alright. I live in the outer areas on the street running next to Maricher's fields. The third house down with the blue shutters and the big maple in the yard. Any time after six would be a good time for me."

"Perfect." I say. "I'll stop by tomorrow! Now I've got to get back to my family. See you later….'

"Judith. And Jason."

"And I'm Abrianna Restuc. Bye Judith! By Jason! See you tomorrow." I start to walk away.

"Wait! Thank… Thank you so much." Judith says, her eyes watering.

"It's really a pleasure."

I walk back to my family, my parents beaming at me. They don't say anything, but I can practically feel their pride. It's a great feeling.

The Reaping doesn't give me such a feeling. Saying goodbye to my parents and Mercedes, then checking in, and finally standing with my friends pushes away the warmth and leaves an uncomfortable, prickling cold. By the time Dal Dabney is onstage, I'm freezing. Although his lipstick and pink suit is humorous, I can't even chuckle.

"Welcomewelcomewelcometothesixtyseventhhungergames reaping!" Dal says this all so quickly that it sounds like one word. He takes in a huge, gasping breath afterwards.

His next sentence is so fast I don't even catch anything except, "short" before the standard Capitol propaganda video clicks on. I hate watching this video that just sings such a terrible government praise. Nicole groans beside me and Jordyn makes a quiet gagging noise.

Once it's over, it's time, which makes me want to keep watching the video. I change my mind in a second, wishing I could just skip over the next couple of minutes so I could be done with it forever.

"Letsstartwiththegirls!" Dal excitedly reaches into the bowl with a dramatic flourish. He takes a breath and shouts,

"ABRIANNA RESTUC!"

My body freezes completely.

_Please. Please no. No. Please, PLEASE._

Nicole is already sobbing quietly. She leans on Jordyn, whose face is tight, her features contorted in pain. Her mouth is tight and I know what she's considering. I only have seconds, but I sharply gaze at her.

_Don't you dare._

She nods, her eyes watering.

I turn away from their pain and begin to take steady steps to the stage. This is the first time I don't want to run ahead. I walk, each footfall painful, jarring, but strong. All too soon I'm there. Then I end up onstage. Dal's pink suit blinds me, disorients me. I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. It too is in pain. The effort to not cry is straining it. I turn, finally to face my audience.

Michael Nakato POV

Today's the reaping. It's my doomsday. Last year, my first year, I tried to make myself sick in anticipation for it. Of-course, I still had to go. I wasn't dying, and even then the capitol doesn't care! They just care about their stupid games! They don't care about me, they don't care about you. They are the only ones who matter. And that man, Lancaster, I think his name is, how can he stand to press a button he knows will end a child's life! How? I don't understand. I don't understand anything anymore.

I need to get out of here. I hate District Eleven! I hate Paneam! I hate the world I live in! Sometimes, when I'm out on the fields working for hours on end, I hope. I hope that things will get better someday. I don't think it will happen while I'm living. Maybe someday. I want my future children to not have to worry about when they will get their next meal. Unlike me.

I highly doubt I will even get breakfast this morning. After I trudge down the hall, I see that my prediction is correct. There is no food in sight. All I see is my father sipping heated water from a chipped mug with a worried expression on his face.

"Hello father," I say as I help myself to some warm water.

"Michael," he says quietly. "Sit down," I do as I'm told, and take a seat on the opposite side of the table. "As you know, the reaping is today,"

"Don't remind me," I say grumpily sipping my water. It does nothing to cure my aching stomach.

"You are entered ten times," he says. I let out a huge groan. Why? My own father is reminding me that I could possibly be sentenced to death today. "That's not a lot compared to some other kids," he whispers.

I consider this, and then reply, "Yes, I guess so. I probably won't get picked anyway," I walk to the other side of the table and give my dad a huge hug. If only I could believe the words I said myself.

Today is also another very horrible, but important day. After the reaping, peacekeepers are coming to our house, (our house!), and deciding whether our home is fit for my younger sister Aria to live in. What gives them that authority! She's my little sister! If they deem our home not worthy, poor Aria will be sent to the community home. She's only seven. The community home is worse than our house! Even though sometimes (okay a lot of times) we don't have food, at least we treat her nicely! I've had that happen to another one of my sisters. Layna. I loved her just as much as Aria. But Layna was stolen from me. Stolen by those capitol pigs who think they can run everything.

I see her in passing sometimes. In the town square, in the school halls, and in shops. I give her a wave and a smile, but she just hurries away. I don't think she even recognizes me. She was only four when it happened.

The capitol tears families apart. If it wasn't for them, I'd have food, I'd have nice clothes! Most of all, I'd have my baby sister. They can't take Aria away from me. Not another one. For the past couple of weeks, we have been cleaning our house and saving up money for food during our inspection. I've gone with out food for such a long time. Food is the only part of this awful day I'm looking forward too.

"Would you like to come down to the square with me?" my father asks.

"I'd love too!" I shout. I run down the hall to get on a set of clothes. On my way I run into my mother. She gives me a kiss, and walks away. After she walks away, I make stomping noises so that it sounds like I walked away. Afterword, I peek my head into the kitchen.

I see my mother collapse into my father's arms sobbing.

"I… I… cccan't believe I might lose both of my ch-children today," My father rubs her back trying to calm her down.

"There, there Alyssa. It will be alright,"

"NO, NO IT WON'T BE!" She shouts and then breaks into a set of particularly loud sobs.

"Alyssa, listen to me!" my father says, raising his voice. "We have Aria's situation under control. Our house is clean, the kid's clothes are clean, and Michael and I are just about to run out for the food. And well, we don't have the reaping under control, but Michael will be fine. He only have ten entries in over probably tens of thousands,"

My mother starts to calm down, which causes me to breathe a sigh of relief, I turn to go into Aria and me's room. I let out a huge gasp when I see Aria, with tears in her eyes.

"Ari! You scared me half to death!" She gives me a hug and continues crying.

"Mikey! Would -if -you -get –picked- for- the-Hunger-Games!" She shrieks in-between sobs.

"I won't Aria, you see, my name is only in there ten teeny times!" I say trying to smile convincingly.

"Oh," she says. But then she remembers, "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE COMMUNITY HOME!" She says, starting to cry all over again.

"You won't. Mommy and daddy made it so you wouldn't possibly go to the community home. Got it?"

"Yes," she says more calmly now, though still sniffling.

I give her one final hug, and then explain, "I have to go with daddy to the market now, I'll see you later," I turn away, not wanting to see any more of my sister's tears, and get dress. My green shirt smells of sweat, and the blueberry farm where I work. _So much for,'The kids having clean clothes,'_ My pants are ripped at the knees and are covered in grass stains and dirt smears. Once done with dressing, I come out into the common area. Without saying a word, my father takes my hand, and leads me to the town square.

On reaping days, there is always hardly anybody in the square. My father doesn't say a word to me the whole time, this is how I can tell he's worried, and he just goes about his business. I love shopping in the square. The sweet smell of actual food, not the tesserae grain that is rationed to the districts. We pick up a loaf of bread, a ten thin slices of ham, some milk, and a bit of butter. That is all. Both my parents have been saving up their wages for over two weeks, and that's all we can get. Only about two days of eating. Not that I'm complaining, in-fact I snack on a slice of bread on our way home. When we get home, we eat our lunch of bread with butter and milk in silence. Only the sound of Aria's sniffles is present. When we're done, there is a moment or two of awkward silence, but my mother is the first to break it.

"Michael, you better get ready for the reaping sweetheart," she says looking at me with the saddest face I have ever seen in my life. I push my chair forward, wipe my face with a moldy towel, and exit the room without I word. I couldn't speak if I tried. All I can think about is what will happen to my parents if I get picked and or Aria is sentenced to the community home. They would never recover. I fill a tub with water that refuses to heat, leaving it freezing cold, and bathe. It's not pleasant but it's necessary because my mother always insists on our whole family looking good for the reaping. I don't know why, but I don't argue, no use in making this day harder for my mother than it already is .

After I'm done, I getting into my reaping clothes, an actually clean red polo with slightly dirty black pants. I comb my hair, and I'm at least physically ready, though not mentally.

After my whole family is dressed, we exit and again walk to the square in silence, Aria keeps tripping over her dress which is much too big for her. My mother bought it because it was the cheapest thing she could find. Nothing against my mother, but the dress is also terribly ugly, it has vertical stripes of green and black going down the length of the dress.

We arrive at the square, and that's when I really start to freak out, I feel like I'm going to vomit my knees are knocking.

After I quick goodbye, and 'I love you' to Aria and my parents I leave without looking back. I can't bear to look at their loving faces and not be able to promise that it will be alright. I check in, trying to ignore the sting of the needle, and take my place by the thirteen year olds. Before long, the reaping will start, and I will find out whether I will die or whether I will live. Well, for another year at least.

The reaping starts and now I really feel like I'm going to barf. Dal Dabney strides onto the stage. He's a man, but he's wearing lipstick and a pink suit.

"Welcomwelcomewelcometothesixtyseventhhungergamesr eaping!" I had forgotten, Dal doesn't breathe when he speaks._ What an idiot. _"Beforewechoosethecitizenswhowillhavethehonorofbei nginthegames, let'swatchthisshortvideo!"

I hate the video, so I zone it out trying to calm my breath and stomach, before long, the video is over, and it's time to pick the names.

"Letsstartwiththegirls!" Dal walks to the reaping ball, and picks a name off the top layer of the ball. " ABRIANNA RESTUC!" A tall, black haired girl slowly starts to walk up to the stage. I feel terrible for her. She slim, but she looks strong.

"Nexttheboys!" Crap, I really feel like I going to puke now. I hold my breath as Dal pulls out a name.

"MICHAEL NAKATO!" No. No. No! It can't be me. I need to stay here for my family! I don't want to die. Maybe if I sneak away, I'll be able to escape!

"Michael Nakato?" Dal asks clearly confused. Now. I need to go now! I take off running as fast as I can, but the peace keepers are too fast for me. I feel a sharp blow to my head, and all is dark.

**Hi! How did you like these tributes? We only have four more chapters of reaping's to go, and then we get to the exciting parts! For this chapter I wrote Michael's POV, and Josie wrote Abrianna's. I posted a poll on my profile so you can vote for your favorite tribute, it won't affect anything, I'm just curious. :) Feel free to vote but keep in mind not all the districts have been posted yet so you might want to wait. We love that you guys love reading our story and we hope you are enjoying it! Keep Reading!**

***Disclaimer WE DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES AND WE ARE NOT SUZANNE COLLINS! **


	15. District 3 Reaping

_Annie Cord POV_

The first thought that crosses my head when I wake is: _I need a shower._ It's true I do. My hair is in knots and my body is dirty from running around with Hayleigh for all of last afternoon, highly frowned upon for a girl of my wealth, and my face desperately needs washing. But it does strike me as odd that my need of a shower was my first thought this particular morning. I should be thinking of so many other things on this day. Especially the reaping. It's my first year this year. I'm terrified, but in theory, I should not get picked. My name is only in that bowl once, so I'm relatively safe. I rise from my warm bed, leaving it unmade. My parents won't scold me today, as far as I know they are just as worried as I am for the reaping. I undress out of my flannel pajamas, and wrap my body in a warm towel. My hair is still in the braid, where I left it yesterday. This is not going to make washing my hair easy. I undo it and attempt to comb it out before I get into the shower. After five minutes of pulling, untangling, and more pulling, I am finally satisfied. I climb into the shower, and begin to wash.

I try not to think of the reaping, but it's difficult. If I do get picked, my odds would be terrible. I am only twelve, I'm the smallest girl in the grade, and I wear I pair of glasses that I couldn't take into the arena. Unless, I used them as a token. Yes, I would use them as a token. Even if I did get picked, which I most likely won't, I have my brain to help me survive. If I was in the games, I'm almost certain I wouldn't survive though. But, I don't need to worry about being picked. First of all, as I said before, my name is only in the bowl once, and my brother Ash has been in the bowl for three years and he has never been picked! Once I'm done showering, I climb out, and once again wrap myself in the towel.

I dress in simple clothes, and slowly walk down the stairs. I don't want to start this day. Each year I dread it, but this year is worse. This year, I'm actually in that reaping ball. I hate the capitol, but I hate the games more. I see how it's an effective way to keep us in line, but really? Killing innocent children who never did anything wrong? That's just wrong. Of- course, there's nothing I could do about it if I wanted too.

"Hello, mother," I say trying to sound casual.

"Hello," She says, not daring to look up from her scrambled eggs. It would be too painful to see me. My brother, Ash, is doing pretty much the same thing. He hates the reaping's. I hate to see him like this. Besides Hayleigh, he's my best friend, and he's told me everything I know about science, literature, and mathematics.

"Where's dad?" I ask.

Now my mother has to look up, "He's at the lab, working on his experiment about the mold on the test bread," I smile, remembering my father sprinkling water over his bread samples. I had come over, wondering why my father would waste food, after he had worked so hard to get it.

"Dad? What are you doing,"

"Sprinkling water over these bread cubes, so I can see the process of molds growing on identical cubes of bread,"

"Can I help you?" I had asked smiling. I love helping my father.

"Yes, of-course," he had said returning my smile. We had spent a couple of minutes carefully placing the right amount of water drops on each identical cube. I wish he was here this morning. I mean he'll have to come for the reaping, but I wish he could be here now to do an experiment with me, or something to take my mind off things. Nobody talks for several minutes, wanting to escape the silence, I head over to Hayleigh's house to hang out for a while.

Hayleigh lives in a bright, yellow house that is exactly three houses from mine. It's much smaller than mine, but much more cozy. When I ring the doorbell, I here Hayleigh yelling, "I'LL GET IT MOM! IT'S ANNIE!" I hear loud running, and when she opens the door, she says, "Heeey, Annie! What's up? Are you nervous for the reaping? Cause I am! I think it would really suck if I got picked because then I would die!"

"Shh… Hayleigh! Calm down!" I say laughing, not because what she said, but because she's talking a mile a minute.

"I know! I know! Want to go to the square?" Honestly, I don't. But I don't want to put Hayleigh in a bad mood, so I agree. The square is eerily empty, leaving me with a nervous feeling inside. The only sign of life is the capitol officials setting up the stage, and peacekeepers patrolling the area.

"Sure is quiet out here," Hayleigh says. I just nod. The reaping bowls are already set. The children who will be picked are in there.

If only I could go up and remove the names of the people I care about. Ash. Hayleigh. Me. I finally realize what it would mean if I were to be picked.

A bloody, gruesome death that my family and friends would be forced to watch.

"Let's go Hayleigh," I say, wanting to leave this gloomy place. Hayleigh doesn't object. We turn to leave, and I let out a gasp as I feel a hand grab my shoulder.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?" a peacekeeper yells, looking extremely angry. I feel like I'm about to faint. I _hate_ getting in trouble.

"I.. I.. We.." I say unable to get unable to get a proper sentence out.

"We were just coming to the square to pick out some groceries," Hayleigh says calmly.

"Aren't you aware that all shops are closed on reaping day, and that all citizens are forbidden to enter the square at any time before twelve?" the peacekeeper snarls.

"Oh dear!" Hayleigh says lying seamlessly, "I totally forgot! I always go to pick out groceries on Sunday, and I just forgot that on reaping day, we're forbidden to enter the square before the reaping. We're only twelve!"

He groans, "I'll let you girls off this time, but the next time you enter a forbidden area, you will be arrested," I gulp, knowing what 'arrested' really means. A bullet through your head.

"Yes, of course Mr. Officer Sir," Hayleigh answers.

"May the odds be ever in your favor!" I hear him yell sarcastically as Hayleigh and I run off.

"God, Annie! This is all my fault! I was the one who suggested we go to the square! I'm so dumb!" Hayleigh sobs.

"You're not dumb," I say shaking, terrified for what will happen if I trespass again.

As my mother wraps my light brown hair in a tight bun, I can't help but be worried. If the reaping wasn't enough to be worried about, now I have a peacekeepers threat looming over me. I decided not to tell any of my family members. They have enough to worry about as well. When my bun is done, my mother places a black lace headband on my head.

"Do you like it?" she asks quietly.

"Yes, it's great mom! Thanks. It will go perfectly with my dress." I reply, wanting to keep her happy to avoid her having a breakdown. She exits the room quickly, and I leave the bathroom to go get my dress on. It's white, and lace with flowers on it After I'm down, I head downstairs. Ash is wearing the same outfit he wore last year, a plain white shirt and black pants. He doesn't want to impress the capitol.

Again, I ask, "Where's dad? Shouldn't he be here already?" I ask, a bit concerned by my father's absence.

My mother just looks down, and doesn't answer my question. Ash takes my hand, and states, "He's meeting us at the reaping, they had a bit of a hold up at the lab,"

"Oh," My own father wasn't going to even wish me luck at my first reaping.

"We better go now," my mother says, though she doesn't make any movement. I see a single tear drop unto the carpeted floor. We walk the short distance to the square, hand and hand, my mother just keeps repeating, "But you won't get picked," or "I bet there are thousands of slips," though Ash and I never said a thing.

When we reach the square, we have to part.  
"Good luck," my mother squeaks before she hurries away.

"I'll see you Ann," Ash says quickly, giving me a kiss on the cheek before he rushes to check in. I'm completely alone. I check in, and take my place next to Hayleigh not saying a word to anyone.

"Good luck," Hayleigh whispers.

"You too," I reply. My hands shake, and a cold sweat drips down my legs. Just then Pearl Oakland, district 3's escort, does a little dance unto the stage. My knees lock, and I feel as though I'm going to pass out. We watch the same video describing how great the capitol is and how much we owe them for our 'terrible' crimes.

"Ladies first!" Pearl squeaks. It's now that I put a hand on Hayleigh's shoulder so I don't fall.

"ANNIE CORD!" I want to scream, I want to run. But it's no use. I have to enter the games, I could die. I _will_ die. As I begin up the stairs, I turn my head and see Hayleigh, my mother, Ash, and father sobbing. _My father. _ He's here. I'm so preoccupied that I trip, and my glasses fall to the ground. My face turns bright red, and I pick them up and I shove them on my face, now hurrying up the stairs, to my death.

_William Issac Jones_

The fine china and sophisticated glasses my mother was so fond of shattered sharply as my father swept them from our long kitchen table. Shards flew over my spot on the wood floor but I didn't try to scuttle away. Don't make any noise or any sound. That was a rule for when his general disgust for me boiled over into anger. Anything I did would just provoke him further. One of our gold candelabra's, candles still warm from our dinner, slammed into the wall beside my head. I shook, too afraid to stay still anymore. Leaping up, I darted for the door, but was thrown back to the floor roughly. My father glared down at me, shaking his head.

"Pathetic. How are you going to survive the Hunger Games if you can't even fight back? And I hoped for four victors in the family. At least you won't be around to embarrass me constantly." He hissed.

"I-I don't know what you m-m-mean…." My eyes widened in terror.

A quick thrust of his foot silenced me. I swallowed the yelp.

"I haven't told you yet? You're volunteering next year. Didn't really think you could just avoid it did you? Obnoxious kid, thinking you're so high in mighty with all your smarts. This district is full of sissy's. We're the only family that's actually brought any pride here." He laughed dryly, like he always does when he rants about our District's lack of success at killing people. He leaned closer to me and muttered, "Better get ready." He laughed again.

I stayed on the cool wood floor long after he left, the laugh echoing in my head.

Remembering the night my father sentenced me to death makes me shiver hard. Of course, the breeze blowing through my bay window isn't helping matters. I shut it, but the shaking doesn't cease.

Today is the Reaping. I will volunteer.

One would think having a family of victors would be a confidence booster, but I'm nothing like my family.

My father, Mark Jones, was the victor of the 47th Hunger Games, which was a surprise to everyone. Victors from District Three, the land of the intelligent, weak, "nerds", are rare, so his victory caused quite a stir. He won using his strength and natural talent for weapons, something I did not inherit, to his disdain and disgust. I can remember the long, painful training sessions where he forced me to practice and weight lift to gain muscle. He screamed at me constantly, and when it became obvious I would never be the impressive, intimidating, respected son he wanted, I became his new punching bag.

My mother, Martha Jones, is equally "impressive". She was the victor of the 51st Annual Hunger Games. Although she isn't superhuman strong like my father, she isn't weak and is incredibly crafty. She used her stealth to evade and murder when she had the surprise advantage. My father apparently found this attractive and once she returned he promptly asked her out, claiming her as his own.

Maybe if I had someone to ally with in this family, someone I could trust and lean on things wouldn't be as bad. I do have a twin sister, Samantha, but she treats me like the rest of my family. Just last year, Samantha volunteered for the 66th Hunger Games, and my parents nearly burst with pride. When she won, they didn't look at me for at least a solid week, so preoccupied with her glory. My family already regarded me as a spineless idiot, but Samantha's victory just proved that point even harder. Never mind that I'm one of the smartest children in District Three. None of it matters to them.

I run a comb through my red hair, hand shaking, causing me to make it worse than it looked before. My teal eyes look hazed with terror, and I adjust my glasses nervously.

Last night I couldn't sleep, of course, so I went over the notes I took. As soon as my father informed me that I was going into the arena I obtained videos of past Hunger Games and studied the victor's actions and tactics, taking notes all the while. My best and only friend Radius Smikers helped me try to map out my tactics and I've been pouring over the notebook constantly. It's the only productive thing I can do to make me feel at least slightly prepared. I run my hands over the papers but don't read because I know it all by heart. The Peace Keeper's won't let me take it on to the train so I memorized it carefully. The only chance I have of getting out of the arena is this. My brain.

"WILLIAM! Get down here!" Samantha screams from downstairs.

I take a shaky breath and look around my room for the last time.

Samantha is glaring at me from the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips. Of course she is completely overdressed. Now that she's a victor, she acts like a queen. Her dress is deep purple, silky, and goes to her feet. Samantha's face is heavily made up and her red hair is twisted into an elegant bun with some sparkly clips shining from it. Today she will sit with the mayor during the Reaping because of her victory last year. Mother and Father are gushing over her, saying she looks like an absolute princess. I think she looks ridiculous. And so will everyone in District Three.

"It took you long enough, _William._ Way to spoil it for everyone." Samantha sniffs. She wasn't always like this. We actually used to like each other before we turned seven and father deemed me useless.

"Let's be on our way. Can't miss William's special day." My father says, smiling icily.

I'm steered out the door unceremoniously and into our Capitol issued vehicle. My father rented it for today specially. He would love to actually own one of the sleek, black "beauties" as he fondly calls them, but the Capitol does not allow citizens to purchase them. Only because of our status and wealth was my father able to rent one for today.

The driver tips his magenta cap as we enter. My father smiles hastily and then clicks the divider button, isolating our family from the driver. I slide into the seat to the right, but my father gives me an annoyed sigh, so I move back to the next row and Samantha takes my seat.

We idle through the streets of District Three, attracting everyone's attention. My father rolls down his window and waves like he's the President. Samantha does the same, but adds blowing kisses. They're sickening and I feel beyond embarrassed to belong to this family. My mother sits quietly, her hands folded primly in her lap. She hasn't said a word to me today. I don't think she knows what to say.

Finally, we arrive at the Square. The driver opens the door first for my father, then for Samantha. They both exit regally, waving to the crowd. I trip over the seats and tumble out, nearly falling flat on my face. I can hear Samantha's snort and my father's groan of disgust. My mother's fingers find my elbow to steady me, and with a firm grip she brings me to the registration table.

After pricking my finger the Peace Keeper waves me on. I turn back, hoping to see my mother waiting to offer me a final hug. There is no one there.

Hot tears well up in my eyes and I blink them back, moving on. Radius is waiting in the sixteen year old boy's area and waves to me with more vigor than necessary. His shirt is too tight again, and I see some guys behind him snickering and making pig faces. Radius is painfully oblivious. I wave back and settle in next to him. He chatters on and on about strategy, but it's all a buzz to me. Radius tries to have a conversation, but once he realizes I'm not up to responding he gives up. My mind is panicked and elsewhere. When Pearl Oakland comes dancing onstage I'm forced to pay attention. My body quakes and my heart pounds so loud I can hear it in my ears as the video rolls.

"Ladies first!" Pearl calls in her overly squeaky voice. Her hand dips into the bowl and wiggles her fingers. She builds suspense, running her hand over the papers until she finally selects one.

"Annie Cord!" She yells.

A small girl begins to walk to the stage. At one point she almost loses her big glasses and shoves them hastily back on to her face. I look up to where Samantha sits and see the cruel smirk on her face. My blood boils.

"And now for the boys!" Pearl's voice makes my boiling blood freeze cold. It's time.

Her hand seems to pick the slip in slow motion, making the waiting agony. Finally, she begins to shout, "Cars-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" The words fall from my mouth and I begin to stride up to the stage trying to look tough. My feet get tangled up with nerves and I nearly fall again. Pearl is chattering away about how exciting this all is, a boy from a family of victors, blah, blah, blah….

When I reach the stage, I try not to look but I have to.

Samantha locks eyes with me for a second, and in that tiny moment I see some remorse and genuine worry in them. Then she looks away.

I look at Annie, her small figure trembling. When we shake hands, I can feel how bony and tiny hers is. I turn back to the crowd and can see my father's impressive stance from here.

_I hope you're proud of yourself, father._

**Heeey everyone! We hope you enjoyed the District Three Reaping. josielynnt wrote William Issac Jones and torystory93 wrote Annie Cord. We're down to three Reapings now! Make sure to vote for your favorite tribute in the poll on torystory93's profile! Keep in mind, though, that not all the tributes are in yet.**

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	16. District 12 Reaping

_Willow Wind POV_

_Prologue_

Blood is dropping unto the keyboard as I frantically type. I need to change it with the DNA samples. I will be found and instantly executed if I don't. I let out a sigh of relief as I finish typing. My new name is "Charity Auburn" That's all I need, I take off running, until I finally exit my living hell. Clutching my bleeding arms, I run into the nearest train I see, and I black out.

_Two Years Later_

I sit in darkness. I don't like the light. Not after what happened in the capitol. I finger my unkempt red hair, and begin to wonder, why me? My mother, father, brother and sister are all dead. Why me? Why am I still alive? I'd rather be with them.

Dead, and worry free. I rise from my sitting position and make no attempt to tame my unruly hair. I exit my den, and head out to the square. Trust me, I don't want to go. But I must. I work down in the mines. They're terrible, cold, gloomy, but dark so that I don't mind. Working is only way that I can afford to feed myself.

I hate District twelve. It's nothing like District eight. Not that I particularly liked eight, but at least I had my family. But they are dead and gone, just like my spirit. I make my way over to the mines, and am about to take the cart down, when I see a boy, about my age, looking at me curiously.

"The mines, are closed today for the reaping you know," he says. Right, the reaping is today. My last one. I've lost track of the days. I take out the note pad I always keep in my pocket and scrawl,

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." The boy eyes me curiously, and I write, "Used to live in District Eight. Traumatizing accident. Can't speak." He just nods, and hurries off.

I did used to live in eight. And I did have a traumatizing experience, but that's not the reason I can't speak. Not only did the capitol kill my family, friends, and our dreams, they also killed my voice.

I can remember that day like it was yesterday. I was just fifteen. It was reaping day. I had planned for us to protest the reaping. What a stupid idea. Most of my friends were shot, and my whole family was captured. Even little Lavender, she was only eleven at the time. She would be fourteen. It's my fault they are dead. We were taken to the capitol and interrogated. I begged them not to punish the rest of my family, saying that I planned the whole thing, and they were just trying to stop me. It wasn't true, but I would have done anything to save them. Instead, they decided it would be a good idea to punish me by killing my family. They killed my brother Rain first. He was only thirteen. He went fast. That was good. I didn't want him to suffer. _My fault. _ They were holding me back, and if they hadn't have had guns, I would have killed them all. _With pleasure. _They killed my mother and father at the same time. It was terrible, it took them hours to finally let go. _My fault._ Worst of all was Lavender, they used a knife to kill her. I'll never forget the look of pleading on her face. It was no use. They didn't care.

Then they moved on to me. They strapped me to a chair, not a bed, and cut my tongue out. I didn't black out. I still remember the relentless taste of blood in my mouth.

I worked as an Avox for a year. Finally, I gave up. I was not going to stand for that. I was not a servant. I expressed this by punching my boss in the face. That was not a good idea. I was tortured. They sliced my arms and legs open, letting them bleed.

_I was done. _After they decided I was 'ready for work' again, I escaped, but not before changing my name in the Capitol computers. I jumped onto a train, and it brought me to twelve. I thought about going back to eight, but I decided not to. Too many memories…

I trudge back to my shed, glad about not having to go to the mines today. I live in a part of District Twelve called the seam. Even my house in eight was nicer than this. I dump some lukewarm water into my chipped mug. I sigh with happiness. As another part of my torture, they refused to give me any water for four days.

That was the worst part. My stomach growls with hunger, but there is no food in sight. Capitol fools, they have all the food they'll ever need. Maybe if they spent a little less money on torturing devices, and equipment for the hunger games, and a little more money on food for the poor, people wouldn't hate them as much. What I wouldn't give to kill Snow. He killed everyone I care about. I don't love anyone anymore.

I'd love to see him die.

It's an a half an hour before the reaping. I'm not changing my clothes. Even if I did have something nice to wear, I wouldn't wear it. Why would I want to flatter my family's killers? Having another idea, I walk outside, pick up some dirt, which is plentiful, and rub it on my face. I laugh, and walk back inside. I want to look absolutely terrible. My hair is already messy, but I make an effort to knot it, making me look extremely ugly. I've never cared how I looked anyway. It's about a quarter of an hour before the reaping, so I figure I should head over to the square.

I'm not worried about myself getting picked, but I think the games are probably the stupidest thing. I hate them, not only because they kill kids for no good reason, but because that's what we were protesting against when my life was shattered.

I check in, ignoring the sting of the needle in my thumb. I've felt worse pain, I think, as I finger the scar on my left arm. I'm just in time. _Great, _so I get to watch the video. _Wonderful._ I hear President Snow's voice booming through the square. I'm repulsed by it. I hope no one sees me covering my ears.

Effie Trinket, that blithering idiot from the captiol, is so excited to send two kids off to their deaths that it looks like she's about to pass out. I can see her dramatically wipe a tear from her cheek. I want to scream. I _hate_ her.

"Oh, how splendid! Well, it's time to pick our fortunate tributes! Let's start with the girls, shall we?" Splendid?

She walks dramatically to the reaping bowl, and announces happily,

"CHARITY AUBURN!"

I let out a gasp. I can't help myself. I'm going back to my hell.

_Prologue _

The February snow crunches under her feet as she walks slowly toward her

destination. Men and women from the 2:00- 10:00 shift in the mines amble by back to their homes, so tired they don't pay any attention to the woman. The workers all head back to the resident villages, but the woman continues on in the other direction. She continues on until she reaches the Peace Keeper's territory. Their homes are built solidly, unlike most of the District 12 citizen's houses. The woman stops next to the sign indicating who these houses belong to. She starts to step forward but halts again. A cold, biting wind blows right through her thin dress but it has no effect on the desperate figure. After living on the streets for so long with nothing, one gets used to the weather and never being able to get warm. Besides, she was already frozen inside.

The woman tried to step forward once again, but it was a step she couldn't take. Bringing her bony hands to her face, she knelt, knees crashing into the frozen snow. She allowed herself to cry for only a moment, but then pulled herself back to her feet, wiping her eyes before the tears could become icy. It was time. If she didn't go now, she might not ever.

As if in a dream, the starving, lonely woman drifted to his door. She checked the brass number on the door. 17. Yes, this was the one.

For a few moments, she stands on the porch, staring at the door. Her heart aches and she feels sick. But dying had to be worse than this.

She brings her hand to the door and knocks with her knuckles, the cold wood stinging them.

He opens the door and smiles, but not in a friendly way. It is more of a mocking, icy smile. His hair is jet black, his eyes a steely blue. He is Gray Runt, a man with chiseled face and bulging muscles. He's obviously attractive, but to the woman, he looks repulsive. The Peace Keeper doesn't even glance around to see if anyone is watching. Who would report him? Many Peace Keeper's do it.

"Ah…. Miss Coaler. Or can I call you Matilda?" He grins at her, raising her eyebrows.

"Miss Coaler is fine." Matilda looks away, her eyes down.

"Oh don't be like that. We're friends…." He came closer, putting an arm around her waist.

She pulls away, shaking.

"We discussed the payment. Twenty dollars." She says, as firmly as possible.

"I thought we said fifteen." He responds. The teasing smile was back again.

"No. Twenty. Twenty or…."

"You'll what? Walk out on the deal? Honey, you're in no position to do that. Or to bargain with me." He fingers the threadbare, drooping neck of her dress.

She pulls away, putting in one last argument.

"Please. You have more than enough and…."

"We'll see." He says, tired of the discussion. "Let's go." Gray turns and walks into his house. Matilda lingers for a moment on the freezing porch.

The house sends warmth out into the night, but Matilda feels no desire to go inside. She looks out into the street one last time, pleading for someone to save her. But no one appears. Finally, she bows her head and steps inside.

_Fifteen Years Later, Dan Coaler POV_

The bag is rigged perfectly over his door. Wind blows hard, and the bag wiggles, almost in anticipation. Any minute now he'll step out and get what he deserves.

I push my shaggy black hair back from my face, gray eyes narrowing. A couple Peace Keepers exit their lodgings and start towards the Square to prepare for the Reaping. I duck into the bushes while they pass. They laugh and joke with each other callously, with no respect to the kids who will be heading to their death today. I feel sick.

I turn back to the door, watching diligently. The wait is not long. In mere minutes he appears in his clean, crisp,_ white_ uniform. He has only a few seconds before the sack tips and my painstakingly gathered coal dust rains down on him, creating a dusty black tornado.

My father bellows angrily, attempting desperately to wipe the dust off but only making dark smears. I can hear his swearing and grumbling from here and I know it's time to go. He's never been able to prove it was me before but if he finds me it will be enough evidence. As much as I'd love to stay and watch the results of my handiwork, I've got to go.

With pranking my father finished, I move along to my next order of business. I dart through the back alleys until I reach the Square. After furtively glancing around, I casually stroll into the bakery. Tall enough to reach the little bell above the door, I silence it, not allowing the object to announce my arrival.

I only do this when it's needed. But Mom and I haven't had much food in days and we could benefit from a little something, especially on Reaping Day. The rolls are on a little silvery platter under a glass dome. Stealing a loaf would be too obvious, but a couple missing rolls will almost certainly go unnoticed. Before I cross the room, I listen for any sign that someone will barge in. I can faintly hear yelling, most likely the baker's wife who has an infamous temper. They will not notice me. I lift the dome quickly but carefully and snatch three rolls. These will keep us going for days. I long to stuff them all into my ratty bag, but of course I can't.

Steadily, I begin to place the dome back in its position. Just as I set it down, a small head pops up from under the counter. I gasp and leap back, stumbling over my feet and nearly falling over. The kid has straw blonde hair and can't be older than ten. The little boy must be the Mellark's youngest son. I think his name is Peter….Paul? It doesn't matter. I need to leave. He looks at me in confusion, then back at the door behind him, if he's debating going to talk to his parents.

"I was just looking." I manage, trying to not look flustered.

Peter or Paul looks at the dome over the rolls, his eyebrows raising slightly. It would be sort of funny if I wasn't about to be beaten by Peace Keeper's. I _need _to leave. I'm about to turn and run for my life when he lifts the dome, glancing quickly back at the door behind him. His little hand snatches another roll and pushes it across the counter towards me. He gives me a small smile and then disappears into the back room.

I stand frozen for a few moments. I can't leave, can't move. But I have to. Slipping the roll into my bag, I exit the shop with mixed emotions. The kindness of that boy was rare among the more prosperous families of District Twelve, and I couldn't stop thinking about the goodness in his face. He didn't give me that bread because of anything but his genuine care. It made me smile, and made me feel a little uncomfortable that I had taken from his shop. But they could spare it, and he didn't seem to be upset that I had taken it. He even gave me more. The warmth of the fresh roll that I had stowed safely in my bag still warmed my hand. The warmth spreads to my chest, a kind of warmth I hadn't felt in months.

My house is a medium distance from the Square, but I reach it quickly. Its porch was rotted through and one wrong step could send my Mom or me crashing through the boards. I step expertly over the holes already punched through and enter our dilapidated home. It smells musty, probably due to the rotting ceiling that gets wet when it rains, but as long as we have food it is fine. My mother, Matilda, stands at the counter, arranging something, and turns when she hears me step inside.

"Dan! Come look at what I got us!" She says, smiling proudly.

My mother's dark brown hair is tied up in some sort of messy bun. Although she's only 35, it's already streaked with a little gray, announcing to the world what her hardships have done to her. I was lucky enough to inherit her gray eyes that are anything but dull, even though they should be tired. Unfortunately, otherwise I resemble Runt far too much.

My mother didn't try to hide her past from me. She wouldn't have been able to anyway. Everyone who had the energy whispered about my mother's desperate sacrifice fifteen years ago. She had been starving to death and frantic enough to sell herself to a Peace Keeper. He promised her money, but gave her nothing. Who was she going to tell? He had her trapped. He also unwillingly gave her a baby to take care of. She pleaded for his help but he turned her away. It's a miracle we're both alive today.

My mother always says that if she had to do it over again she would, all for me. She says Gray Runt gave her a gift that night. Me. I believe that she tells me the truth, but I still can't help feeling guilty.

When I was only four my mother started work in the mines. It was long, grueling hours of work for only a meager dinner of a handful of corn and a few tiny slices of bread, but she did it. She hated leaving me so often, especially so young, but there was no way around it. I learned to be self-sufficient that way, and I always try to tell her that made me stronger today. When I was eight, the mine shaft she was on broke and plummeted to their destination. Luckily they were about half way down, but lives were still lost and my mother's leg was smashed beyond repair. We were too poor to get Capitol assistance, so it healed in a contorted way and she can put no weight on it. All we got from the wealthy Capitol was a small supply of grain and food cards, but no matter how frugal we were with it, they ran out quickly. But my mother never stopped fighting. She still works in the all-purpose shop in the Square. She never stops hoping.

"What is it?" I ask, peering at a small, brown cloth wrapped parcel on the scratched table.

My mother unties the string with a flourish and reveals a small handful of juicy blueberries, beaming with pride.

"I found a pair of old boots laying around in an alley so I took them to the Hob! They were a little worse for the wear but they were good enough to get us a treat!"

My mother loves to explore the alleys and streets, hobbling proudly on her crutch. She occasionally finds a little something to trade. I pick up a fat berry, rolling it in my fingers and relishing the feeling of having something good before I pop it in my mouth. The sweet juice explodes across my tongue and I grin.

"Thanks Mom. I happen to have a little something for you too." I reach into my sack and pull out the rolls, still warm.

Her face falls slightly. I know that she hates it when I steal.

"Danny…. No. Please tell me you didn't steal those." My mother scolds, but she looks at them hungrily.

"I didn't exactly…." I say, really telling the truth.

"Well…. I suppose you can't go back and return them. So we might as well enjoy them." My mother attempts to keep a straight, stern face, but I can tell she's holding back a smile.

We eat together in silence. The blueberries and rolls are the best food we've had in days, so we stuff our faces silently. Once we're finished, though, my mother starts to look apprehensive. We have to be on our way. I get up, hug her, and head to my room.

Every year, the Reaping is hard for us. I love my mother, and if I get Reaped I'm not sure I'll make it back. The separation would be hard enough for both of us.

I slip the old, thin blue shirt over my head but leave the frayed black pants on. These pants are in the best shape. My mother is waiting downstairs with a wet comb, and she gently makes my hair look presentable. Once she's done I start to head towards the door.

"DANIEL!" My mother yells, teasingly.

I trudge back to the wash bin and clean the grime off my face. There's more coal residue than usual, but nothing compared to how my father looks now. I snort and my mother looks at me, confused.

Before long we're on our way. The Square is packed, and I try to find Runt to see if he managed to get the coal dust out in time. I finally spot him, wearing a spare uniform that is obviously too tight. I swallow the laughter back just in time. When my mother and I reach check in, she turns to face me, eyes already welling up.

"I'll see you soon Danny. Everything is going to be fine. We'll go home and finish off those rolls and blueberries."

I nod and hug her stiffly, feeling uncomfortable. I hate seeing my mother cry.

The check in is quick and I'm standing with the fifteen year old boys in no time. I don't have any friends so there's really nothing to do but wait. It's almost a relief from the intense boredom when Effie Trinket begins her perky speech, patting her vibrant purple hair. Haymitch, the surprise victor of the 50th Hunger Games who is constantly drunk, stumbles onstage, stretching out his hands to find the seat before sitting. He tumbles over at one point, and the mayor hastily pushes him upright. The Capitol propaganda film rolls across the screen, but I have little interest in it. Effie actually wipes away tears when it finishes, a hand over her heart.

"Oh, how splendid! Well, it's time to pick our fortunate tributes! Let's start with the girls, shall we?"

She swishes to the Reaping Bowls, which glisten sinisterly in the sunlight. I don't look away from the glare.

"Charity Auburn!"

Nothing. We all twist and turn, trying to catch a glimpse of the poor girl, but no one has begun their march to the stage. She must be so scared she can't even move, which isn't uncommon.

"CHARITY! CHARITY AUBURN!" Effie smooths her hair nervously.

"Will SOMEBODY please escort CHARITY AUBURN to the stage?" Effie shrieks into the microphone.

Finally, a red haired girl emerges, hurrying now. I realize I recognize her. She arrived in District Twelve a few months ago, allegedly from District Eight. Apparently, some sort of accident there rendered her speechless, so she speaks by writing on paper. At least that's her official story, but I feel funny about it. There are too many holes, and I'm not alone in my opinion. When Charity first arrived she was the talk of the District, and suspicious murmurs still can be heard. Now she looks terrified, eyes wide. Effie smiles with fake sincerity and then hurries away to the male bowl, obviously annoyed. Her pale hand reaches deep into the bowl, and I feel my body tense in fear. I cannot get picked. What would happen to Mom? I'm already damp with sticky sweat.

"Daniel Coaler!"

I freeze.

**Hey everyone! How did you like this chapter? torystory93 wrote Willow Wind and josielynnt wrote Dan Coaler! Yes, we know it was a really long wait. L Unfortunately we're pretty busy but we hope to be updating as frequently as possible. AND GUESS WHAT? Only TWO more Reapings before we are ready to move on! WOOOOOT! Don't forget to vote for your favorites on torystory93's bio! **

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	17. District 8 Reaping

_Sylvia Floyd POV_

_Stamp. Pass. Stamp. Pass._ This is what I do every day for four hours after school. _Four hours. _And all I do is stamp a couple thousand shirts and pass them unto the next person. Four hours of stamping and passing. I hate it, but I must do it, because without me working, my family would go without supper.

I can't let that happen. My mother, Coral, works twelve hours a day sowing skirts for the capitol. My elder brothers, Leo and Zack, both work in the bakery in the town square for four hours a day each. Twenty four hours of work a day between us, and we still can't afford to feed ourselves properly.

You're probably wondering about my father. Well, he's dead. He died of lung cancer two long years ago. Every day he was sick, he faded farer and farer from us. During his last days, it hurt too much to open his eyes, and he couldn't speak. I remember, on one of his last days, before his speaking ceased, he had asked for a scrap of paper and his favorite pen, he loved to write, so he could write us a goodbye note. He couldn't even hold his favorite pen properly. He had dropped it on the piece of paper, though, making a small line of ink. Leo took it from him, and was about to throw it away, but I took it. It's still in my clothing drawer. My last story from my father. I loved reading his stories, he wrote them about the rebellion, and how the soldiers fought bravely, but were overtaken by the capitol. If a peacekeeper would have found them, he would have been whipped, more likely executed.

"ATTENTION!" shouts my boss, a portly man with severe anger issues. "Because it is Sunday, and the reaping is today, you are now dismissed!" A huge clatter is made when tons of young girls rush to leave. I take my time, arrange my station nicely, and wrap my body in my navy blue shawl.

"Goodbye Mr. Ardmore," I say much too politely. My boss, Mr. Ardmore, just gruffs and walks away. I sigh, and exit the factory. With its gloomy grey walls menacing employees, it's not a place you'd want to stick around in for very long.

I take a nice, slow walk back to my dwelling, and try to enjoy the beauty of District 8. I can't though, in a mere two hours, two of my friends, family, or acquaintances will be sent to an untimely death in the hunger games. What scares me most is that it could be Leo, Zach, my best friends Isaac, and Alice, or even myself. Just a year ago, a kid in my class was reaped. His name was Timothy Hyena, and he of course never came back to District 8. He was wasn't my friend, nor was he my enemy, but it still broke my heart to see his mother running away from the square, a hand cupped over her mouth, and tears running down her face after Tim died 45 seconds in the games.

That could be me this year. When I arrive home, as expected, all is quiet. My brothers and mother are undoubtedly still at work. I remove my shawl and glance at our clock. It's only 9:00, so I still have two hours before the reaping begins. Figuring, I don't have to get ready for the reaping for another hour yet, I plop down on a wooden chair, grab a book, and cozy up with a blanket. Just after I get relaxed, I hear pounding on my door. I bolt up, and when I open the door, I'm surprised to see my best friends Isaac and Alice waiting at the door.

"Hey guys!" I say.

"Hey!" says Alice.

"Yo," Isaac says in an obvious attempt to be cool. He's had a crush on me since we were able to walk. I've never returned his feelings, and I try to just be friends with him.

"So, um, why are you here?" I ask.

"Oh, we just have some reaping day treats for you!" Alice says. That's right. Every year, we bring each other a treat for good luck. I've been so busy that I forgot.

"Oh! That's so sweet!" I say, taking the cookies, and frantically looking around for something to give to them.

"So you forgot?" Isaac asks attempting to hide his laughter.

"Okay, fine. I forgot," I say.

"That's fine!" Alice says, with an angry glance to her twin brother, as if telling him to be quiet, "Why don't we sit down and share the cookies?"

Isaac and I follow suit, and as we enjoy our cookies, I can't help but worry that not making a treat will give me bad luck.

An hour later, I'm putting the final touches on my reaping outfit, a flowery blouse with a black skirt, and seriously starting to worry about being chosen. Just then, My mom comes in.

"Sylvia, I have something for you," she says handing me a beautiful pink colored headband.

"Mom, it's beautiful."

"I wore it to all my reaping's, and I'd be honored if you wore it today,"

"Of course," I say, and my mother places the beautiful headband on my long, curly blonde hair.

"I love you, Sylvia. Dad would be proud," I look into her sparkling blue eyes, the same as mine, and I can tell that she really, truly means it.

"Thank you," is all that I can choke out. We walk down the stairs, and Leo and Zack are sitting silently at our table. They are shy in general, and on the reaping days they hardly speak at all.

However, Leo looks me straight in the eyes, and says, "Syl. You look beautiful." My heart flushes with admiration for my brother, and I don't hesitate to give him a hug.

"Thank you, I love you." I say, and then I add, "Mom, Zach, come here,"

We all hug, and then depart for the reaping. As we walk, my mother says, "Since it's Leo's last year this year I bought some bread that we can eat to celebrate, you know, after it's over," I nod, and just keep walking. If one of us gets chosen, the bread will remain uneaten, a stale, hard reminder of our over confidence. When we arrive at the reaping, my mother gives us each a kiss on the head, and then departs to the section for people that aren't in the bowl. As I wait in line to check in, my hand locked in Leo's, I look around for Alice in Isaac. They are nowhere in sight. I hope they would be late. If they are, it could mean serious consequences for them. Once I'm checked in, I have to let go of Leo's hand. I say goodbye to him and Zach, and head over to my section. Alice comes in about five minutes before the reaping begins. Her hands are shaking and she looks extremely nervous. I mutter a quick hello, but then have to turn my attention to the front when Hogan Wildwood, looking quite like a women in his pink shirt, walks unto the stage.

"Welcome!" his low voice echoes throughout the crowd. "Today we will pick the tributes to represent district eight in the 67th annual hunger games. But first we have a very special video for you all to watch," I believe that Hogan is new, and he actually sounds quite bored with his spiel unlike the escorts we've had in the past. By the time the video is over, I can hear Alice hyperventilating.

"Now we will select the female tribute!" he slowly reaches into the ball and picks out the name.

"SYLVIA FLOYD!"

My heart sinks. I guess I should have made a treat for Alice and Isaac.

_Adler Fresk POV_

My pale, skeletal, yet strong fingers loop the yarn through my loom. There's no purpose to what I'm doing, no work I'm accomplishing. I just aimlessly weave, concentrating on the loops and yarn rubbing against my fingers so I don't have to think about today. The sun is up now, shining brightly. When I got up earlier this morning the sky had still been navy night blue, but now the light is blinding. For a couple minutes I try to block it with the loom or shift around, so it isn't glaring right into my eyes but finally I have no choice but to get up and close the decrepit curtains. Just as I'm about to do just that, they snap shut firmly. The sun spots black out my vision for a second, but when they clear up Dedela, my twin sister, is frowning at me, her arms crossed. Her dark brown hair, the same color as mine, is sloppily piled up on top of her head, indicating she didn't sleep well.

As soon as my family realized my weaving talent Dedela started acting different around me. When I mentioned it to Mom she said it was just jealousy, but I don't see why Dedela should be jealous of me. She's the one who gets to spend all the time with Dad in the factories. I hardly even see him, but the two of them are best friends, struggling through work with each other.

Dedela still glowers at me, even as she pulls the band from her hair and attempts to arrange it without a comb. This is ridiculous, since her hair almost goes all the way to her waist.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"What's wrong is you woke me up last night when you left our room. Then you kept me up the rest of the night with all your weaving! You must have made at least thirty sweaters!" She snaps.

I don't bother telling her I made enough sweaters and scarfs to pay for many good dinners and maybe even used boots from the trading post because that would just make her more angry. Also, I'm sure my weaving wasn't enough to keep her up all night. It was the Reaping.

But I don't say anything about that. She's already agitated and edgy, so it won't do any good to bother her further.

"Sorry." I apologize flatly. I get up and walk over to the stove where the pot of hot water is heating. We managed to scrape out enough to buy a mini jar of honey this month, so I scoop a little into my own chipped mug and stir with our wooden spoon.

"Want some?" I ask, gesturing to the pot.

Dedela nods and takes some water. She wipes her nose quickly, trying to keep it hidden, but I see it.

"Do you have that cold still?" I ask, grabbing her arm.

"Adler, _don't_ tell anyone. We don't have enough money for Mom as it is, and you know she'll just try to use her money on my little cold instead of her heart. _Don't._ I'm fine. Really."

Our mother has always had a sick heart. It's weak and she really needs the fancy medication from the Capitol, but we don't have that kind of money. Every month we save as much money as we can spare from our work and put it towards medication.

Mom is a fantastic weaver and was once even the best weaver in our district, but she can hardly get out of bed sometimes, much less work full time. When she feels up to it, she does odd sewing jobs here and there. As soon as I turned five I was helping my mother with her mending and weaving. I can still remember the cozy, warm days in our living room, weaving back and forth, covered in our old woven blanket. We were next to the fire, and even though we could only afford a log or two for each fire, it still felt warm. Then, when I turned 10 my family really began struggling. I left my cozy spot beside the fire for the factories, assembling clothing, blankets, curtains…the list goes on and on. We mindlessly wove or knitted or sowed. The factories were dreary and always cold. There wasn't any talking allowed, but I got the feeling that no one wanted to be talking anyway. I began to notice how quickly I would create things, and after I completed a new design once, I wouldn't have to look at the instructions again. A Peace Keeper assigned to watch us and keep us in line noticed my speed, and suspiciously inspected my work, thinking it was flawed or sloppy. I remember shivering fiercely, but not from the cold. The Peace Keeper studied my work and ordered me to follow him. I balled my hands into little fists as I walked after him, thinking I was going to be punished. Instead, I was prodded into an office. The factory owner also examined my work, and was apparently very impressed. He grinned and offered me a position as a high class weaver. They got to work in a quiet studio above the factories and got higher pay for their excellent work. My mother had the same experience when she was younger and I accepted his offer without even consulting my parents.

My mother and father were very excited about my placement, but Dedela was instantly jealous. I would gladly trade places with her. Sure the factories are incredibly dull, but at least she gets to see Dad.

My Dad is an amateur designer trying to break out into the "scene". He used to paint in his free time and quite well too, but we needed money so he has been trying channel his creativity into fashion. Unfortunately, his designs are abstract and… colorful. Mom doesn't have the heart to tell him they won't sell here. He would do great in the Capitol, but we don't have the money to send him there to show off his work.

This is why Dedela can't let me tell Mom she's sick again. We have absolutely no money to spare, and every cent we can save goes to medication for Mom. But if Mom knew Dedela was sick she would want to sacrifice it to buy cold medicine, and we can't allow that to happen.

Dedela sniffs again and tugs her sweaters tighter around herself. The August mornings are already nippy, and we have to layer our sweaters. We sit down and sip our water quietly. In the past on the rare occasions we have done this it was always very peaceful and calming, but today both of us are tense. I peek at Dedela, who is staring pensively out the window. Her hands are clasped tightly around her mug, knuckles almost white, and her lips are pressed firmly together too.

I struggle to think of something to say that will sound right, really anything that will give her some sort of peace. Finally, I feel like I have something.

"Dedela….?" I tentatively ask.

"Yeah, Adler?" Her voice actually sounds soft for once, instead of the brittle tones she usually uses with me.

"I….hrum…. er…I…." I mutter awkwardly trying to push my words out. I'm not the best at expressing myself to others.

Before I can actually say something intelligent, our door creaks open and Jessela Rigg pokes her head inside.

"Hey! Can Roddy and I come in?" She asks, waving to us.

"Yeah come in!" I nod enthusiastically. I want to move on from my failed attempt to console my sister.

Jessela comes bouncing in with Roddy Lee, another friend from school. We don't attend school anymore because of our necessary work, but all of us met in the lower classes when we were young. Jessela and Roddy are both sixteen as well and last year they officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, even though we all knew it was coming. Jessela plops down at the table and Roddy pulls the old rocking chair over next to her. After I get them both cups of hot water and we get past the usual small talk, Jessela leans in, brushing her curly brown hair away from her face.

"How much tesserae did you both take out?" She asks seriously, her face darkening.

"Mom said she only wanted us to take out 30 at the maximum. But we needed to take out 40 each." Dedela responds, looking down.

I wish Jessela hadn't brought that up. The mood changes and my sister's hands twist and squeeze each other tensely. I want to reach out and put my own hand over them, but I can't bring myself to. My hands stay around my mug.

Jessela doesn't respond. She's better off than we are, but not by much. Even so, since she most likely took out less tesserae she doesn't want to throw it in our faces.

The conversation moves hesitantly on until we begin to talk about little gossip or news to distract ourselves. Apparently Mrs. Malloy is expecting a new daughter in early spring and little Lucy Regent is showing promising signs of being a talented weaver, but I can't truly focus on any of this. I keep seeing my sister's hands underneath the table, twisting and pinching back and forth to keep them busy. We aren't close, but I still care about her and I can't stand seeing her pain.

When my father groggily comes downstairs, we know it's time to get ready. My father is a _very _late riser on Reaping day, and especially if we have friends over he gives us privacy. I start upstairs to change, and Dad gives both Dedela and I warm hugs. Like me, my Dad isn't good at expressing himself through words, so his hugs were a way to say, _it's going to be okay._

It took me a couple seconds longer than usual to button my shirt because my fingers were trembling slightly and I kept missing the button holes. Finally, I trudged downstairs.

My Mom waits dressed nicely, ready to go. She holds Dedela's hand and smiles at me when I come down. Her smile is like Dad's hugs, convincing me I was safe.

The walk to the Square seems to take forever. Every year since I was twelve the Reaping's have taken a huge toll on me, and I feel like I'm in a hazy trance. When we reach the check in, my father gives me a cozy, reassuring hug and my mother kisses my forehead fondly.

"You'll be fine Adler. Nothing will hurt you." She says, her eyes dancing with tears and humor. She said the same words to me when I was twelve, and has said them ever since.

Dedela and I check ourselves in, but once we're finished, we become uncomfortable. I just don't know what to say. So I follow Dad's lead and pull Dedela into a big hug. She's surprised at first, but quickly returns it. When I pull away, she's smiling, and I even think I can see the glimmer of a tear for a second. Then she's gone.

I make it to my section and go into a bubble of isolation. Roddy tries to initiate conversation, but after a few failed attempts, he just stands next to me in silence. I actually jump when Hogan Wildwood, (Well at least I assume that's him, although he looks more feminine than I remembered….) bounds on stage gleefully.

"Welcome! Today we will pick the tributes to represent District Eight in the 67th Annual Hunger Games! But first, we have a _very _special video for you all to watch!"

By the time the video, which I can practically recite word for word, is over, I can feel the shaking getting worse. Roddy, who is standing firmly but looking a little pale, nods to me solemnly.

"SYLVIA FLOYD!" Hogan roars.

A girl with long, extremely curly blonde hair makes her way to the stage, hands inadvertently smoothing her skirt. I'm watching her, so I don't even notice Hogan sauntering over to the boys bowl.

"ADLER FRESK!"

My name rings in my ears. Roddy's hand finds my shoulder, but I can't turn to him. I begin to march to the stage, focusing only on taking steps.

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

_Mom. Dad. Dedela. Jessela. Roddy._

As their names ring in my ears, I know what I have to do. I have to get back to them.

I have to win.

**Heeeey everybody! How was that chapter? josielynnt wrote Adler and torystory93 wrote Sylvia. NOW: don't forget to submit a guess for our mini contest. Remember, the question is what month is torystory93's birthday in? We only take submits through PM and if you guessed already you can guess once again! Also, don't forget about the poll on torystory93's bio! Vote for your favorite tribute. ANNNNND…. ONLY ONE REAPING LEFT! Get excited! **

**Okay, bye y'all. **


	18. District 6 Reaping

**Hi guys! So in this chapter, there is a suicidal character, which we understand is a sensitive issue. We in no way endorse this, and it's just for the good of the story. If this kind of stuff bothers you, please do not read. Everyone is special, and everyone has something to live for. If you or someone you know is suicidal, GET HELP! I'm sorry this sounded all "Public Servicey" but I had to get it off my chest. Thanks guys, and keep enjoying our story!**

_Jennifer Lake POV_

When it comes to people volunteering for the Hunger Games, there are usually two main reasons. One, they want fame, or glory. Or, two, they are volunteering for a family member or a friend. I am going to volunteer this year, but not for either of these reasons. I'm volunteering because there is nothing for me to live for here.

My father is dead. I have few friends. Everyone hates me. Everyone. Just yesterday, when I refused to clean the dishes, my mother screamed at me, "I hate you, you good for nothing brat!" And then she slapped me across the face leaving a large bruise. Stuff like this happens almost every day. I know she's sad and everything because dad died, but doesn't she realize that his death affected her children too? Not just her? She used to be better, when he was alive, but now, if there were such a contest, she'd probably win an award for worst mom in the world or something. She works twelve hours a day, so I hardly ever see her. I don't care though, when she's here, I wish that she was at work. My five year old sister Jasmine, thinks differently though.

Whenever my mom is gone, she cries, "MOMMA MOMMIE!" Over and over again. It's so irritating. My few friends think that Jasmine is adorable, but she just drives me nuts. I don't love anyone in my family. I see my brothers Jordan, and James, as total bums that don't give a crap about me or my feelings. I don't love anyone anymore. I loved my father, but he's dead.

If the roles were reversed though, and my mother had died, I'm sure that my father would have remained strong, and would have brought our family closer, not farther apart. Only my mother can do that.

Today is the reaping, so this will be the last time I ever see my family. I'm definitely not coming back. I don't want too. At least I'll have a bit of excitement in the last days of my miserable life. I haven't told anyone about my plan to volunteer. I'm sure they wouldn't care if I did. Jordan might try to object, but I'd just punch him in the jaw and tell him to shut up. He's eighteen, three years older than me, and he tries to keep some order in the household but always fails. A typical morning at our house usually consists of people screaming at each other, someone getting slapped, and tons of tears.

I wish I lived at my friend Libby's house. Her beautiful family with their perfect jobs, perfect grades, perfect house, and perfect personalities is definitely something to be jealous of. Maybe if I lived there, I wouldn't be so messed up.

My mother has the day off today, so I'll have to deal with her for the last couple hours at my house. I'd rather she'd not be here. I'd like some peace before I go off to my death.

"JENIFFER! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! THE REAPING IS IN TWENTY MINUTES!" I hear my mother screech from downstairs. _Let her wait,_ I think. _It's not like I'm dressing up or anything._ I wait another ten minutes, and then my mother stomps upstairs, pulls me out of bed and slaps me across the face again.

"You lazy ass," I hear her mutter coldly. I scream, and smack her across the face for that smart remark. We fight our way downstairs, and then Jasmine starts to cry.

James is yelling, "Please! Please! Stop!" And Jordan is actually trying to pull us apart.

Jordan succeeds, and says "Please! Don't fight! And I can see tears welling up in his eyes. Suddenly, I'm reminded of my first reaping, the last time I saw Jordan cry.

I was wearing a small red dress, my mousy blonde hair was in pigtails, and I was clutching my father's hand with tears in my eyes.

"Jen. Please don't cry. It will be alright. You won't get picked," My father had said lovingly.

My mom, much younger, had no time to console me. She was nursing Jasmine, but she did have a couple tears in her eyes.

We walked to the reaping, I was still holding my father's hand, and James was rubbing my back. James was only thirteen, and Jordan fourteen, so they were still very scared of the reaping. That's where my memory comes from. We walked hand and hand to that reaping. A chain of love. That memory almost gives me the feeling that things could get better, that I shouldn't volunteer. But, I've already made my decision. I'm going to volunteer no matter what. I stomp away from my family, grab a dirt stained jacket, throw it on, and stomp out. My family follows me, and we walk about two feet to the square. We aren't holding hands. We're walking in a straight line, trying to ignore each other as much as possible. I sign in, don't even bother to look at my family to say goodbye. If and when they come to say goodbye to me, I will send them out. I don't want them there. I want to forget them. Just let the memories fade away like a fingerprint. I walk up to the fifteen year old section, and take my place next to my 'friends' Libby, and Tatiana.

I call them my friends, but I'm pretty sure that the only reason they are friends with me is so that they can tell humorous stories about me to their other friends. They don't even say hi to me when I arrive. The reaping starts about ten seconds after I take my place.

"Heeeloooo! Di-ris-tict Siiiiiiix!" Edita Meadow says with a huge grin. "Before we watch our special little video, as you know I love to ask fun trivia questions to the crowd! This year's question is; Which district was the first district to have a victor?" There is a couple seconds of awkward silence when no one answers. "Just shout it out!" Edita says. When nobody responds yet again, Edita keeps things moving forward by saying, "That's right! Di-ris-tict Siiiiiix!" _What an idiot._

We watch the stupid video clip that is shown every year, I ignore it, and just wait for my time.

"Noooooooow! We will pick your female tribute!" Edita walks to the bowl and picks out a name.

"CLARICE WHITE!" I wait till the girl, Clarice White, starts to walk up to the stage to make things a bit more dramatic. Clarice is a small girl, who couldn't be more than thirteen, she's crying. I hate it when people cry. Just like my dad.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I scream, and then I run up to the stage. I grab Clarice's shoulder, and say, "I just saved your life kid, so you better be grateful," She nods, her eyes wide, still filled with tears, she's still shocked she got picked, and now shocked I saved her.

"Th-Th-Thank You," she squeaks. She thinks I did it because I felt bad for her. I didn't. I would have volunteered no matter whose name got drawn. I nod, and walk up to the stage. _Goodbye District 6, _I think.

_Bruce Windsoar POV_

I awake to a bang.

My door smacks the wall forcefully as it is thrown open, and being a light sleeper, my eyes fly open nearly instantly. Vision blurry and head foggy, I can't immediately make out what's going on, until I hear someone slowly walking over to my bedside. In a second, he's standing next to me, hunched over and shivering fiercely.

"WHERE IS MY SON? DAD BRIAN ISN'T….hrm..lelpr…gearmb…." My father babbles nonsense, and finally can't even string words together anymore. I leap out of bed and catch him before he falls, slowly lowering him to the carpet and putting him on his side. My father's skin is damp with cold sweat, his skin icy.

Of course he had to do this on Reaping Day. I watch the tremors running the length of his body and listen to his intoxicated mumbling for a minute, just disappointed it had to be today. Finally I haul myself up and half-walk, half-groggily trip to my parent's room where my mother, Mila, sleeps. She is the opposite of me, a heavy sleeper. Even if she wasn't, Dad does this so often now that it probably wouldn't wake her up anyway.

Five years ago, when I was eleven, my Dad fell off a ladder fixing the lights on the ceiling of the car parts factory. Everyone always used to tease him, saying he should have been born in District Three or District Five because of his natural talent with electronics. When he fell of the ladder and practically shattered his left leg, the Captiol doctors put him on morphine. Although his leg eventually healed, the rest of him would soon be destroyed. He started to get it illegally, spending the hard earned money my mother and he made to pick up his drugs. The first time he went crazy with no explanation, staggering around and yelling randomly, I was terrified. When he wasn't smashed, he became angry and bitter, yelling at everyone and everything. Gone was the peaceful, calm man who used to be my father.

Mom already worked, but she had to take on extra hours to sustain our family. My mother is an extremely talented engineer and she passed on her love of machinery to me. I love everything about being a mechanic and making things tick. I've already started working on some blueprints for an even more advanced rail system so that the engine can run three times more efficiently, and Mom said they were really good. Coming from a master engineer like her, it's a huge compliment. She's also very skilled at wielding weaponry, so she's been teaching me to fight in combat. I'm not incredible with weapons yet, but I'm pretty competent in hand to hand.

It's funny….I always thought that my father would be the one to teach me those sort of things. For a while he did, giving me guidance alongside my Mom. But after his accident, he's completely changed.

As I walk down the hall, Tray and Wendy, my twin thirteen year old brother and sister open their door and peer out at me. Wendy's blonde hair, almost identical to me and father's tumbles messily to her shoulders, and Tray's black hair looks like the bird's nest we found in a tree a few months ago. Even though the situation is anything but funny, their untidy appearance makes me want to laugh.

"Is it Dad?" Wendy asks, her large brown eyes filled with pain.

"Yes. It's okay, Mom and I will get it all under control." I assure them.

Tray nods and shuts the door eagerly. Tray and Wendy hate to be around Dad when he's like this, which is often.

I enter my parent's room where my Mom is sprawled out in bed. She can stretch out as far as she wants since Dad rarely sleeps in the same room with her. He's either passed out somewhere downstairs or "out". Mom's brown-black hair is spread out neatly around her face and she snores slightly, blowing one loose strand back and forth. She looks so calm and relaxed for once that I wish I didn't have to wake her. But if I don't tell her about Dad's episodes she gets upset.

I shake her gently. When that doesn't work, I shake harder.

"_Mom. MOM._"

"Wha…. What?" She finally murmurs, shifting and managing to open one eye slightly.

"Mom. It's Dad." I say, feeling guilty for waking her.

"Oh….Oh no! Not today! It's the Reaping, isn't it?" My mother pulls herself from bed, grabbing the sweater from her nightstand and tugging it on.

"Is he in your room?"

I nod, and follow her to my room. For someone who just was rudely awakened she walks fast. When she reaches my room and sees Dad lying there, she kneels next to him. He's completely unconscious now, but he still mumbles unintelligibly and shakes fiercely.

"George…._George._ What have you done…?" My mother is whispering and doesn't mean for me to hear her but I do. I feel like someone is cutting into me and my eyes sting sharply. I need to get out of this room. I feel like I'm suffocating.

"Mom?"

"Um, yes… Yes sorry Bruce what?" My Mom answers distractedly.

"If you don't need any help here, can I go out to the garage?" I ask. I feel terrible about abandoning her, but I have to get out of here.

"Yes. Go ahead." Mom replies, looking sympathetic.

I jog down the stairs and into our little shed next to the house. It's filled with broken parts or extra things that the factories or garage didn't need. Whenever I need a break I fool around with the pieces, making something out of nothing.

As I hammer and drill, I try to keep my mind off the Reaping, but it's impossible. If I get chosen, Mom will be left alone to deal with father. One of these days he's going to do something really stupid and cause something bad to happen, and I can't stand the thought that I won't be able to help her deal with it. Mom's a genius in many aspects, but she will never give up on Dad. She loves him so much, but one day he'll do something destructive, maybe even to her, but she can't stand the thought of sending him away to some Capitol run facility. If I get sent away into the games, I won't be able to protect her.

I tinker with tools for hours, until the sun is fully up and shining brightly through the tiny windows of our shack. Finally, Mom comes outside and knocks on the door. She pokes her head in and is smiling, but her blue eyes look tired.

"Bruce, we've got to start getting ready for the Reaping." She says, handing me a slice of bread and an apple for breakfast.

"Already?" I ask, incredulously. "How long was I out here?"

"At least four hours." She laughs slightly. "Nowhere near your record!"

I smile remembering the day when I got crazy focused on my blueprints. I was out in the shed for nearly 7 hours, working diligently. It felt like only an hour for me though. When I get focused, nothing can distract me.

I bound up the stairs, eating as quickly as I can. Tray is standing on the landing, trying to squish his feet into the used dress shoes Mom picked up for him at the Black Kettle, our basic trading center. His face is squished up in intense concentration.

"They...just…won't…_FIT!_" He groans when he sees me come up the stairs.

I grin. Tray's feet rival my friend Harry Heatwave's. Both have humongous feet that grow faster than the speed of light.

When I reach my room I polish off the last of my bread and begin to pull on my "Reaping Shirt". It's just a plain, faded green button down, but my Mom deemed it fine for the Reaping. Everything else I have has varying amounts of grease stains. Once I'm ready and my light blonde hair is somewhat presentable I meet my family downstairs. Father is nowhere to be seen.

"Your father won't be able to make it. He's…." My mother began, but didn't finish. It wasn't necessary.

My family begins the trek to the Square, and I give both Wendy and Tray a comforting hug. I hate that my family is so helplessly exposed to danger and I have no way to protect them. I could always volunteer for Tray, but if Wendy gets Reaped I'll be helpless. Wendy gazes at a fixed point, obviously trying to tune out everything around her so she can relax. I gently squeeze her hand and she gives me a small smile in return. When we reach check-in, I try to give Tray and Wendy reassuring smiles.

"It's going to be okay guys. Just go stand with Izzy and we'll all meet back here later."

Izzy is Isabelle Waternose, Brittany Waternose's sister. Izzy is thirteen and one of the twin's best friends. Brittany is fifteen, a year younger than me, but she's still one of my closest friends. I don't give trust to many people, but Brittany is someone I have a really deep connection with. I would trust her with anything.

Finally, I give my Mom a huge hug. Reapings are always hard for her, but she's a strong person. She doesn't show any fear.

"I love you Bruce." She says.

"I love you too, Mom." I squeeze her hand and then we part.

Check-in goes quickly, and then I meet up with Brittany and Harry who are waiting for me just inside the ropes.

"Hey Bruce! Took you long enough! The Reaping is almost about to start!" Brittany jokes, upbeat and positive as always.

"Well I'm sorry! It takes me a while to look this good." I try to joke back, but my voice sounds flat.

Brittany's face falls slightly, picking up that I'm not feeling so great.

"Sorry Bruce. Is something wrong? I mean… Besides…" She gestures generally to the entire Reaping scene.

I sigh and open my mouth to answer, but Edita Meadow interrupts me, shrieking, "Heeeloooo Di-st-rict Siiiiix! Before we watch our special little video, as you know I loooove to ask fun trivia questions to the crowd! This year's question is: Which District was the first district to have a victor?"

The awkward silence is just embarrassing. A Peace Maker agitatedly shoos us on, so Brittany waves and quickly heads to the fifteen year old girl section, while Harry and I head for the sixteen year old boy area. Edita is still attempting and miserably failing to get the crowd to participate. Eventually the video rolls, and by the time it's finished Harry and I are situated in the correct area. Edita is already energetically pulling an unlucky girl's name from the bowl.

_Please not Brittany, or Izzy, or PLEASE not Wendy._

"CLARICE WHITE!"

A crying little girl begins to walk up to the stage. She tries to wipe her eyes, but it's in vain. Poor kid….

"I VOLUNTEER!" Someone shouts, just as Clarice gets her foot on the first step leading up to the stage.

A blonde-haired, skinny girl races up to the stage as if she's about to win a prize. Before she clambers onstage, she grabs Clarice and says something to her fiercely. Clarice just nods, pale white. Once the girl, who introduces herself as Jennifer Lake, is onstage Clarice runs back to her section, and I see her collapse into her friend's arms. A Peace Keeper rushes in and carries her away swiftly to be revived. I grimace, feeling for this poor girl.

"BRUCE WINDSOAR!"

For a brief second, I'm stunned. I was so focused on Clarice that I didn't even hear Edita announce it was time for the boys. My throat closes and I feel light headed. My fingers fumble over one another, like they do when fixing a part or creating something. My eyes close, and I breathe deeply. Then, I step out to take what will be the longest walk of my life.

**Hi everybody! For this chapter, torystory93 did Jennifer Lake, and josielynnt did Bruce Windsoar! Annnnnd…. GUESS WHAT? THIS IS THE LAST REAPING CHAPTER! WHOO HOOOOOOOO! **

**Raise the roof…. (Because I'm just retro like that)**

**But in all seriousness, (what's seriousness?) thank you guys for being such loyal followers. I hope we continue to please you guys with this story. **

**Don't forget to vote for your favorite tribute in the poll on torystory93's bio AND third guesses are now allowed for the mini contest, (What is torystory93's birth month?) If you get it right you receive FIVE sponsor points. Remember, submit through PM please. **

**See y'all soon! **


	19. Capitol Comments!

_POV Rosemary Valjet_

"THAT WAS SO FABULOUS!" Ophelia shrieks, her eyes sparkling like her glittered face.

"I. HAVE. GOOSEBUMPS. Feel them Ophey, feel them!" Gaznetia thrusts her arms toward Ophelia, who enthusiastically inspects them.

"Did you see that little girl from two? She looked so fierce!" Derik adds, excitedly.

"I was more of a fan of that Blake Dylans personally." Monle purrs, putting a hand over her heart dramatically.

"Their little banter on the stage was so cute!" I add, grinning suggestively. "Romance, anyone?"

"OOOOH yes!" Gaznetia agrees, waving her arms up and down happily.

"Come on, District Two is all focus. They'll be getting down to business right away." Derik replies, snorting at us.

"Poo, you make things so drab." Ophelia teases, patting his cheek fondly. There might be a romance after all this year, but not necessarily with the tributes. I glance slyly at Gazneita, who winks back. Things have been heating up between the two of them for a few months.

"Speaking of fierce tributes, did you catch that Ivy Blood girl from 7? She looked out for blood!" Enriche comments, laughing hysterically at his own joke.

"She scared me! Just thinking of her expression gives me more goosebumps!" Gaznetia shivers exaggeratedly.

"What about Jenifer Lake? I just wish I could hear what she said to that little girl!" Ophelia adds.

"That William Jones kid just looked terrified! I wonder why he volunteered…." Gaznetia looks as if she's trying to recall something, her forehead scrunched tightly.

"GAZnetia! He comes from a family of victors! Mark Jones, Martha Jones…. Come on Gaz Samantha Jones won just last year!" Monle scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Well one thing's for sure, these tributes look fantastic." Derik says, pouring glasses of the chocolate blueberry flavored wine for all of us.

"To the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" He yells, winking at Ophelia again.

"To the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" We chorus, ready for whatever would come next.

**Hey guys! josielynnt (that's me!) wrote this little snippet for you! Hope you liked it! So our next chapter will just be the "Sponsor Point Catalog" (fancy schmancy) so you can start to pick out what kind of things you want to send your tribute. How can you get more points you ask? WEEELL… ENTER THE MINI CONTEST! Five points goes to whoever guesses torystory93's birthday month. Remember submit your guesses through PM! Also, don't forget to vote for your favorite tributes in the poll on torystory93's bio. Okay! Bye no**


	20. Goodbyes

**Hey! So our Sponsor System will be posted this chapter! Yay! Also, we will only be featuring a couple tributes in each chapter from now on. Each tribute will at least get a POV twice before the games and at least one during the games. (Most likely many more times if your tribute survives the bloodbath) Don't just scan the chapters for your tribute's name though, because you will be missing out on a good story, and your tribute will probably be mentioned a lot, so you don't want to miss out! **

_Johnny Landcaster POV _

The hard, metal, silvery chairs are freezing cold. I had the choice to sit on one of the fancy, golden trimmed chairs but I just couldn't. It was too relaxing, which meant I had to deal with my thoughts. So I chose to sit in the discomfort.

I hear a commotion in the hallway and I stand up. It has to be them. The Peace Keeper barely even has time to harshly give them the time limit, as my mother strides in with the speed of light. Her face is pale and streaked with tears. There are bright red indentations where her fingers dug into her face in horror. My stomach drops in the pain and guilt.

But it gets unbelievably worse. Sam won't even look at me, rivers of tears rushing down his face. His little hands are balled into fists and his knuckles are snow white. For a split second, no one speaks and no one moves. Mom's eyes are fixed on me at least, but she has not made a move to touch me yet. The silence is only for a tiny moment, but it feels awkward and wrong.

"Why Johnny? Why did you do it?" Sam finally asks. Although he's only eight and sobbing, his voice is strong and steady. That makes it even worse.

I unfurl the paper that has been pressed tightly in my palm for the last twenty minutes and hold it out to my mother. She reaches out steadily and takes it. I watch her notice the Capitol seal and see the red hot fury billowing inside her. My mother's hand shakes as she turns to Sam, brandishing the letter she has not even read yet but already understands.

"Because Sam. He's protecting us. Because someone else can't." She spits, tossing it to the floor in utter disgust. I cross the floor until I can hug her, and I feel my mother fold in pain, her soft sobs shaking both of us. Sam stoops to pick up the letter, but my mother gently pulls away from me and takes it from his hands.

"I don't want you to see this. Not now. We have…we have to say g-goodbye to Johnny. At least, for now."

We all murmur "I Love You's", promising to see each other again soon. We embrace and cry softly until the Peace Keeper barges in, not even able to show a little respect. Sammy's wails shatter my heart and the last I see of him is a desperate arm reaching back for me. As the Peace Keeper ushers her out firmly, my mother turns one last time, her eyes ablaze.

_Fight, _they say.

_Fight for us. _

_Autumn Fields POV_

My light brown hair feels too heavy on my neck. Sweat rolls down my back, like the tears of terror roll down my face.

I need to stop this. If my siblings see me like this….

_Spring._ Oh Spring… His tortured wails still resonate in my head. I can hear them like I'm still trapped in those horrible moments. At least that walk is over. It felt like walking into a terrible hell, with demons straight from the devil.

The door bangs open, startling me. I barely have a moment to recover before Spring collides with me, his small arms wrapping around my body, daring anyone to take me away. Winter and Summer are right behind him, and soon we're a pile of tears and misery. I _have _to console them and inspire my siblings to be strong.

Wiping my tears fiercely, I stand, although it's difficult since Spring clings to my waist, which is already damp with his tears. My anger toward the Capitol builds monumentally. What gives them the right to wrench children from their homes, no matter what our ancestors did? It's sickening, how we provide their entertainment, how their entertainment is our deaths.

When my eyes clear, I see Mrs. Josephine standing back against the doors as though she wants to run. I know such emotional situations have been hard for her ever since her husband died. But she has constantly been our savior, and I both love and trust her.

"Mrs. Josephine? Will you please do me the enormous favor of taking care of Winter, Spring, and Summer? Summer can do quite a lot of her own, but even so she'll need assistance. Do you th-".

"I will do anything to help. It would be a…a pleasure." Mrs. Josephine's voice breaks slightly, but her strong expression does not change.

I don't hesitate, or even care if it will make her uncomfortable. I run to her and kiss our friend on the cheek, giving her a warm hug. She is obviously startled, but nevertheless she pats me comfortingly on the back.

"_Thank you."_ I whisper, holding back my cries. Those would be for later.

As kiss my siblings one last time, I make a promise to myself. I will return for them. I will be back. I will have to win.

_Dan Coaler POV_

My mother holds my hands in hers. Her gray eyes were brimming with tears, and hands shaking. But they still held mine fast. She doesn't cry yet, fighting to hold everything back.

"Mom, I'm so sorry…." I start, faltering when I see her expression.

"Daniel, what on earth for? You bring so much into my life, and it's not your fault your name got snatched from that godforsaken Reaping Bowl!"

"Mom." I say, my voice shaking terribly. "I'm going to die." My knees buckle and I kneel to the floor, vision blurry.

"No." She says, her warm hand on my shoulder. "You are going to win. You _will_ come back to me. I know it. I need your light in my life, and no one can take you away. This is just a terrible, terrible thing, but we can rise above it. Just don't get sucked into their game. Fight to stay above them. Don't kill unnecessarily. Injure if you can. Just please Dan, don't lose your faith. You can do this."

Her gray eyes sparkle with her strength and never dying positivity. I hug her until the Peace Keeper ushers her out.

"I'll….I'll see you soon Mother! I love you!" I call after her until the door shuts heavily.

Willow Wind POV

My allotted hour ticks by slowly. No one comes. No one loves me, no one cares. I let the tears drip down my face. I can't show any weakness out by the train. Not out there, where the whole capitol will be watching me. No. _I'm going to die._ There's no way to stop it. I'm not scared. I've faced death before, but this time, I'm not sure if I want to survive. I don't want to kill innocent people. I don't want to die. When I was young, I wanted to live. Get married to my prince, get a great job, and have babies. But that won't happen. The capitol has ruined everything yet again.

The guard outside my door enters the room awkwardly, "Uh, your time's up Ma'am," He knows that no one has visited me. I nod, and walk out the door, letting a final tear drip down my face. The guard offers me a tissue, a sign of kindness. I'm too smart for him though. I look him straight in the eye, spit on the tissue, crumple it up and throw it on his face. He blinks angrily, grabs my arm, and drags me out to the train station.

"You should learn a little respect, District Twelve," he sneers. I sigh, _I knew no one from the capitol could be kind._

_Michael Nakato POV_

When my eyes next open, I am lying on the dusty carpet of one of the room in the Justice Building. The first thing I hear is sobbing.

"Mmmom?" I ask stuttering. With a sharp blow to the stomach, I remember what happened. The reaping. My name being drawn from the bowl. Trying to run. Getting hit in the head. It all comes back suddenly, and my eyes fill with tears, blurring my vision.

"Oh! Michael!" I hear my mother sob. She runs towards me, engulfing me in a hug.

"I'm sorry, baby" she cries, rubbing my back vigorously. I see my father sitting on the velvet covered couch, with a blank expression. Aria is sitting on his lap with tears dripping down her face.

I pull away from my mother, knowing exactly what I have to say.

"Mother, Father, Aria, I just want you all to know I love you guys with all my heart. I'm so sorry that this happened, more for you than me," I feel the tears starting to drip down my face again. "I want to say that I'll try my best to win, but I don't want to kill anyone."

"Oh! Michael!" my mother says pulling me into a hug again, "Please, please say you'll win!"

"No, Alyssa," I hear my father say. His voice sounds different. Dark and cold. "Michael can't do that. He can't promise to win," His voice cracks on his last word. I let go of my mother, walk over to my mother, and give him a huge hug.

"I love you daddy," I say.

"Love you too, Mike," Now I walk over to Aria. I take her hand, and look straight into her eyes.

"Now, Ari, you got to be good for mommy and daddy, okay?"

"Okay," she sobs. "Michael, I don't want you to die!" I sigh, Aria always tells the truth.

"Aria Nakato. Now, the truth is that I might die, I probably will die," My mother gasps, and buries her face in my father's shoulder. "But you got to stay strong. You have to be strong for mommy and daddy, they will need me afte- afte- after I'm gone," I choke out. My mother shrieks and runs over to me.

"Bu-Bu-t you'll try, right Michael?"

"Yes. Yes, I will try," Everyone is crying, and we all hug, just repeating, I love you. Surprisingly, my mother is the first to pull away.

"Michael, does your head hurt at all sweetie?"

"Mom. Please don't worry about that, I'm fine." We go back to hugging, until a peacekeeper comes to pull us apart.

"MICHAEL! NO! LET ME STAY WITH MY SON!" But they pull her away, and I'm left alone. Then I remember I forgot to wish Aria luck at her inspection. I hate myself some times.

_ Ruby Shine POV_

I nervously giggle into my palm. My parents are going to be so upset with me. Just then, the door clicks open, and my mother practically runs in, followed by my father and Glitter.

"RUBY GENEVIEVE SHINE! HOW DARE YOU VOLUNTEER FOR THE HUNGER GAMES! YOUR FATHER AND I ARE EX-" my mother shouts, her face shining a bright red color.

"Mom, listen!" I interject trying to hold back my laughter.

"TREMELY DISAPOINTED! YOU AREN'T EVEN TRAINED HOW TO YOU EXPECT TO SURVIVE?"

"Mom," I sigh. "I am trained. I never went to piano lessons, I've been training at the training center for years,"

"Ruby!"

"I'm sorry! It's just it's my dream to win the Hunger Games! I know it was yours too!"

My mother sighs, and looks me straight in the eyes.

"Are you any good?"

"At fighting? Mom, I'm a whiz with a sword. I'll come back to you, I promise," I say truthfully.

"And you're sure?" she whispers.

"Yes," I say. "I love you mom," I walk over, and I give her a huge hug. Then I turn over to my dad. I see tears staining his face. "Dad! Please don't cry! I promise I'll come home!"

He sighs, wiping his tears "I know you will sweetheart, I love you," he says hugging me.

"Love you too," Next, I move over to Glitter, she has a large, angry pout on her face. "Glitter?"

"What?" she says angrily, not looking at me.

"Are you upset with me?" I ask.

"Yes,"

"Why?"

"Why do you have to leave me?" she asks beginning to cry.

"Aw, sweetie! I'll only be gone for a little bit, and then I come back and play princesses right away with you, okay?"

"Okay," she says wiping her tears.

Suddenly, the doors open, and a peacekeeper announces that my families time is up. They all walk slowly out, saying things like:

"I love you!"

"Good luck"

"See you soon!"

"Bye! Bye! Queen Ruby!" The door closes behind them, and I can't help but feel a teeny bit of sadness over leaving my family. I'll see them soon though. Next to visit me is Ashley.

"HEYYYY!" Ashley squeals.

"HEEYYYY!" I sing back. She runs to hug me, and I hug her back.

"I'm so proud of you!"

"I know!"

"Just don't do anything stupid like join the career alliance, okay?"

"Gosh, Ashley, you insult my intelligence!" Then I pause, what do you mean about not joining the career alliance?" That had _always _been my plan; join the careers and then backstab them in the end. Literally.

"Ah, they never work," Ashley says wisely. "You'll end up getting a knife in the back!" I giggle. Ashley can always guess my thoughts.

"Alright. I'll only ally with them if no one else will, agreed?"

"Agreed" We shake on it, and then the peacekeeper renters. Gosh, that guy is annoying.

"We'll I guess I better go," says Ashley.

"Yeah," I say glumly.

"See you soon!" Ashley says giving me a final hug.

"Yep!" She exits, and I'm left alone. The peacekeeper takes me outside to the train station.

As soon as I step outside the door, I'm blinded by the flashing of the camera lights.

"Goodbye District One!" I yell to the cameras, I'm going to the capitol!"

**Hey! So we finally started the non-reaping stuff! Hurrah! After this a/n we will be moving unto the sponsor system. For this chapter I (torystory93) wrote Ruby, Michael, and Willow. Josielynnt wrote Autumn A., Dan, and Johnny. Remember for your favorite tribute on the poll on my profile, and also, congrats to lonewolf009 who guessed that my birthday was in July, and therefore won five points. Keep those reviews coming!**

**MINI-CONTEST:**

**Want ten points? You can get them by guessing the date (ex: 3,8,22) of Josielynnt's birthday! Remember though, you can only submit guesses through PM.**

**Sponsor System **

**Rules:**

You can't submit items to a tribute before the games start.

Any reader can earn, collect, and send points to tributes.

If something you want is not on the list, PM me for the price.

You can send items to other peoples tributes.

**Format:**

(To purchase an item)

Subject: Sponsor Request

I would like to send (tributes name) the item(s), (State clearly which items you would like to purchase.)

**Catalog**

**Weapons:**

Throwing Knife: 15 Points

Multipurpose Knife: 20 Points

Spear: 30 Points.

Extra Spearhead: 5 Points

Bow: 40 Points

Quiver: 6 Points

Arrow: 2 Points

Trident: 50 Points

Sword: 40 Points

Axe: 25 Points

**Food:**

Loaf of Bread: 25 Points

Pound of nuts: 10 Points

Apple: 5 Points

Small dish of meat: 30 Points

Large dish of meat: 50 Points

Mashed Potatoes:

-Small: 15 Points

-Large: 20 Points

Mixed Veggies: 25 Points

Banana: 5 Points

Small Chees Wedge: 5 Points

Large Cheese Wedge: 10 Points

**Medicine:**

Small First Aid Kit: 35 Points

-Bandages

-Pain Medication

Large First Aid Kit: 55 Points

-Bandages

-First aid pamphlet

-Cooling Pack

-Gauze

-Itch Cream

- Mosquito repellent

Healing Salve: 75 Points (cures potentially fatal injuries)

**Clothing/Comfort Items:**

Pair of Socks: 4 points

Short sleeved shirt: 8 Points

Long sleeved shirt: 10 Points

Pants: 12 Points

Shorts: 10 Points

District Tribute Jacket: 20 Points

Boots: 30 Points

Thin Sleeping bag: 30 Points

Deluxe Sleeping Bag: 40 Points

Pillow: 10 Points

Empty Water bottle: 15 Points

Iodine: 5 Points per tablet.

Full water bottle: 25 Points

Empty Backpack: 30 Points

Blanket: 15 Points

Soap: 5 Points

Hair Elastics: 5 Points for five.

**Backpacks:**

Small Pack: 60 Points

-Multipurpose Knife

-Thin sleeping bag

-Pair of socks

-coil of wire

- 5 bandages

-backpack

Large Deluxe Pack: 100 Points

-Multipurpose Knife

-Deluxe sleeping bag

-Pair of socks

-Coil of wire

-Small first aid kid

- Loaf of Bread

-2 Apples

-Full water bottle

-Five iodine tablets

-Backpack


	21. Train Rides

_Julia Lamberson POV_

The train begins to move, wheels squealing and wheezing in preparation. I have an irrational urge to push the doors open or bust a window and sprint home until I'm safe with Jessica, Mom, and Dad. I can still feel their hugs and tears, Jessica howling, blaming herself for some ridiculous reason. I told them I loved them and would try to return home alive. Dad called me a hero for saving Jessica, and the thought of that makes me cry harder.

"Now, now, now darling. Don't cry! Look at all the beautiful things we have here! You can eat the cakes all you like!" Kennedy gestures to the carefully arranged mini cakes, as though that will just make everything fine. I feel an angry heat in my chest towards her, but also I know she doesn't know any better. She was raised in corruption and because she's so ignorant, I swallow my next words. Instead, I nod slightly.

It's true that the train is beautiful and unlike anything I've ever seen before. The walls are icy blues, light rose pinks, and lavenders. Every room is adorned with art work, shiny silver or gold ornaments, and a fresh bouquet of brightly colored flowers. The rooms are neither too hot nor too cold, but just right. But the most wonderful part of the train is the many "refreshment" tables, riddled with cakes, breads, a sweet fizzy liquid that bubbles as it goes down your throat, coffee, juices, pies, fruit, steaming cooked veggies…. It would be magical if the circumstances were different.

I glance at Logan, who is sitting on the other side of the room, looking out the window. I did not want to watch District 10 slowly fade away, and can't understand why he's glued to the window. Maybe it's like an accident; you want to look away but you just can't. His dark hair is long and sort of flops over his face. Finally, I get tired of being alone and scared. Might as well try to make a friend, even though that seems ridiculous considering we're all going into an arena of death. But even still, I just needed someone to talk to besides Kennedy.

I cross the room and stand next to him at the window. Stealing a glance, I see that his face is dirty with dust and mud. He probably lived on the streets, and my heart aches for him. He's two years younger than me, and I feel some sort of weird responsibility for him. I want to take care of him somehow, and even though we haven't spoken yet, I feel close to him.

"Um… Hi Logan." I say lamely.

No response. He doesn't even turn to look at me.

"Look Logan, I…I know how you feel and I just want to help you somehow and…."

Logan turns to look at me, studying my face for a long minute. He looks like a middle aged man, wise beyond his years. Finally, he says, "Thank you for trying to be nice but… I just really need to be alone right now. I don't want to talk."

Then Logan steps away from the window and sits down at the fine glass table. I turn back to face out at the rolling scenery, fighting back tears. I'm alone.

Later that night, I lay in my bed. It's beautiful, with creamy warm sheets and unlimited blankets. The pillows are arranged with a firm pillow behind the soft, so that you can still get the gentleness of the soft pillow, but have the support of the firm. But I feel awful.

Just hours before we had met our mentor, Harold Bunber. He was the victor of the twenty second Annual Hunger Games, using his natural skills with weaponry, evasion, and wit. He told us a story of how he once spent four days preparing a trap for the careers and was never caught. Harold slowly cut down a huge tree in the woods until it was ready to timber. Once it fell, he knew the careers would come running, so he used bungee cords he had gotten as a sponsor gift to tie the tree to another, dangling precariously. When the careers came running to investigate, Harold carefully waited until they were in position and cut the tree lose, killing all but one of the career pack.

Harold won at age 18, so he now is sixty-three, but he hasn't lost any of his fire. I don't like him. He seemed delighted to tell us about how he literally crushed the life out of other children. Although in the games it may have to be done, I would never go brag about my kills to other people. I would be too traumatized to relate the events again. Apparently Harold has lots of supporters in the Capitol, but I just can't like him. He scares me. There's something wrong about him.

The train's horn blows sorrowfully as we continue into the black night, towards an even darker city.

_Eric Kristensen POV_

Victoria Gabhtat gently pushes me on to the train, and they first thing I'm hit with is the smell. The train is nice looking I guess, but something reeks to high heaven.

"Uh… What's that smell?" I ask, resisting the urge to cover my nose, or maybe even find some gas mask.

"Oh, you mean my room perfume?" Victoria responds, taking a huge sniff of the putrid air. "I just plug in this little contraption and it spreads the fragrance! This one is called _Simple Serenity. _It's supposed to be a calming formula, and I thought you tributes could use a little of that today! Sometimes nerves just take over a little bit!" Victoria laughs, as though we're just nervous for some school test.

"Now I'll be right back! Just sit here and breathe in the serenity!" Victoria prances from the room.

As soon as she leaves, my district partner hurries into the room, her hand over her nose. She crosses the room swiftly, and yanks the _Simple Serenity _from the wall outlet. Then, Autumn nudges it behind a cabinet, so it looks as if it just fell off the wall and got accidently shoved out of sight. After her mission is over, she looks up and smiles at me.

My mind goes completely blank.

Her green eyes remind me of the fresh, new, green grass that grows from the ground in the spring, pushing its way determinedly to the top. Autumn's hair rolls her shoulders beautifully, and her smile is comforting and teasing at the same time in an endearing way.

If only I could actually say something.

"Aren't you going to say something? I just saved your life!" Autumn says, trying to joke through her obvious pain and fear.

I tried to choke out something, and when I did, it was, "Hi."

I expect Autumn to look confused, or annoyed and just decide I'm not worth her time, but she smiles gently again.

"Hi Eric."

This is bad. This is so bad. Because this is the Hunger Games. You can't make friends in the Hunger Games. You can't….you can't….

But I know it's a lost cause. I already feel close to Autumn. I guess when someone saves you from a _Simple Serenity _assault, you just have no choice but to fall in love.

NO! Not love, I can't call it that. Friends is bad enough. No love. None. Nope.

But however hard I battled with myself, my heart kept coming out the victor.

Victoria strides in with the victor of the 48th Hunger Games from District Nine, Steven Hunnel, our new mentor. Autumn lightly taps my arm and gestures to the table. Her soft touch sends a zing through my body, and I manage to turn around and smile at her slightly. There's nothing wrong with being friendly….

Steven was 17 when he was crowned victor, and now is a strapping man of thirty six. He's something of a local celebrity and he's very outgoing. Most people would say he's remarkably happy for a victor, but I've seen his face drop before during events when he thinks people aren't looking. I can't blame him. The Hunger Games wreak havoc on even the happiest of minds, and although I want to make it out, the idea of dealing with the horror afterward seems just as daunting as the games. Steven won when he killed a team of Careers, the girl and boy from two and the girl from one. When he sits, his muscles bulge impressively as he nervously pats his jet black hair. He has an agitated expression, which I could understand. I would hate to have to attempt to save kids who most likely will never see their families and homes again. As we begin to council, Victoria whisks herself off into the kitchen with a wink, saying she wants to give us some time to "connect".

"I'm Steven Hunnel and I was the victor of the 48th Hunger Games. I'm sure you've seen me at the Reapings. I'm basically here to advise you on…on what do to in the Games." He smiles at us, but I can tell he isn't really comfortable instructing us on how to most effectively kill other children.

"I'm Autumn Fields. What do you think we should focus on primarily in these Games?" Autumn asks, diving right in.

"Well, we don't know what terrain the arena will be in, but never cast off the survival skills. Those will be super valuable once we get into training. Find what weapons are most comfortable for you and focus on which are good, but don't just practice with one. You'll need experience with all weapons to be ready. We'll talk more about chariot rides after dinner and strategies that will make you most desirable to sponsors, but I want to get this in both of your heads." Steven seems more intense now, more serious. Autumn and I lean in almost in unison.

"Never forget who the people are around you. Never forget that they have families and friends just like you. Don't forget that their death will cause others terrible pain and irreparable damage." His deep voice is husky and quaking oddly. Autumn's forehead is all scrunched up, and I can bet mine looks the same.

"What do you mean? Don't we want to do the opposite?" I ask, completely confused.

Steven opens his mouth, but Victoria enters through the swinging doors and he shuts his mouth. I stare intently, wanting an answer. My brain is swirling like a tornado, everything I had thought he would say turned over. He shakes his head slightly at me, obviously not wanting to talk in front of Victoria. I turn away slowly, catching Autumn's eyes. She glances back, shrugging her shoulders. Victoria begins to chatter on about the dinner prepared, but I'm not listening. I jump a bit when a napkin crinkles against my left hand. Looking down abruptly, I see Autumn is pressing the napkin against my hand urgently. I take it and read what is written in her looping hand.

**Come talk in my room after dinner. **

_Blake Dylans POV_

I sigh with both delight and sadness, Sophia's last kiss is still on my lips. I want to be with her, but being in the Hunger Games is something I must do in order to feel complete. Besides, when I get back, Sophia and I will be living in a home in the Victor's Village.

I get off my bed and start to leave my bedroom. It's a beautiful room, but it's not mine. Absent are the pictures of Sophia on the wall. Absent is a dresser filled my clothes, not the capitol's. Absent are the people that I love. I step out of my room and walk down the hall, the recap of the reaping's will be on soon and I need to see who my competition will be. I also feel like I have to apologize to Brynn, even though I don't want too. But what I do want is for her to be in the career alliance with me. I have a feeling she's pissed because of my little stunt at the reaping. I step into the door of the main room, and Brutus, Enobaria, Finnigus, and Brynn are sitting on a couch, hunched over, waiting for the reaping's to begin. Brutus smiles at me, but Brynn just glares. Enobaria does as well. I have a feeling that Enobaria is a bit upset about what I did at the reaping to her tribute. Whatever. It's not like _she's _my mentor.

"BLAKE! COME OVER! THE REAPING'S ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN!" Finnigus yells, waving me over. It appears as though Finnigus's yelling problem didn't cease at the reaping. _Great._

I sit down, next to Brynn, who moves a couple inches away from me. I smile at her, but she looks away. I sigh, and turn my focus to the TV.

"Hello, Panem! I'm your host Caesar Flickerman, and tonight we will be recapping the wonderful reaping's that were shown earlier today. So, without further ado, the reaping's for the 67th Hunger Games!"

The reaping video starts with the tributes from District one. I definitely want the girl to be in the alliance, but I'm not sure about the boy. He'll definitely have to prove himself. I have to say that I look pretty awesome for the District 2 reaping, and I definitely outshone Brynn. The District 3 tributes look like they will go down pretty fast. The little girl's glasses fell off, and I have no idea why the boy volunteered. Both District 4 tributes look great, and I will definitely want them to be with the careers. After four, I can't quite remember all the tributes, and I can only remember a few.

The girl from 7 looks trained and ready to fight. I want her to be with the careers. Partly because she looks really good at fighting, and partly because I don't want her to kill me.

As for District 9, I don't really care who they are. All I know is that I'm going to kill them in a painful and slow way.

A young girl from 10 volunteers for her little sister. She doesn't look strong and I don't think she'll make it far at all.

The boy from 11 tries to make a break for it, and I can't help but chuckle a bit. _What a stupid kid_.

When the girl from 12 is reaped, I can't help but feel a bit uneasy about her. The way she doesn't speak, and her cold menacing stare kind of freaks me out. I'll have to watch her.

After the reaping's are over I feel extremely relived. No one looks particularly out of the ordinary, and I think I'll have an easy time winning. Now all I have to do is get the alliance together. I think I'll start with Brynn.

I stand up, look Brynn straight in the eye, and ask, "Brynn? Can I talk to you in my room for a moment?" She shakes her head, but one glance from Enobaria is all she needs to change her mind. She stands up reluctantly, her arms crossed, and she follows me into my room. I close the door behind us.

"Listen, Brynn, I know you're pissed but…"

"You want to make an alliance with me," It's not a question. It's a statement.

"Yeah,"

"I'm still mad at you, you know!" she shouts, and as she scowls I can't help but notice how pretty she is.

"I understand why, but you have to understand that I needed to make an impression just as much as you did!" I say, my voice raising with anger.

She says nothing back, and turns around. I need to let her _think_ she's in charge.

"Who do you want in the alliance?" I ask.

"Girl from one. Us. Both from four, and maybe that girl from seven," she says turning around.

"Exactly what I was thinking!" I say with a grin. Brynn starts to smile back, but quickly changes her expression back to a frown.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, don't say anything stupid or I might change my mind!" She shouts, and then she sulks out of the room. I poke my head out the door and watch her leave.

I collapse on my bed, feeling extremely confused.

_Autumn Alvey POV_

My father. My mother. Tabitha. Hillary. I'll never see them again. These are the only thoughts that my brain can process.

The goodbyes were horrible. What was I supposed to say? That I thought I was going to win? I'm not, though, so that would be a huge lie. I take one last look around District 5. My loved ones are nowhere in sight. Apparently, I'm taking too long, because the peacekeeper 'escorting' me pokes my back with the butt of his gun.

I glare at him, but he keeps the same stern expression on his face. I look at my fellow tribute, Oliver, and he looks at me but makes no attempt at conversation. I sigh, I know this is a game of life and death, but it would be nice to have a friend.

I step in the train, and the door slams behind me. I'm trapped. There's no chance of escape now. _Goodbye District 5._

I turn, and I'm standing in the most luxurious room I've ever been in. The walls are a beautiful shade of teal, and the carpet is squishy beneath my feet. A chandelier is in the center of the room, and a mahogany table has been placed below it. Sitting, waiting on the table is the biggest bounty of delicious food I've ever seen. Tender meats, crisp rolls, and overflowing bowls of veggies, among many other decadent foods are all on the table. I sigh as I inhale all the smells. But I know that I must wait.

Oliver on the other hand, can't wait. He runs towards the meats, and starts to stuff his face with the meats, just like any street person would.

"Um, excuse me," I say slowly. Oliver looks up at me, his face dripping with meat juices. "I don't think that's a very good idea," He stares at me for a couple of seconds, but then goes back to eating. "You do want to make a good impression, don't you? I just don't think that stuffing your face with meat…"

Oliver looks up at me again, "Look, I don't take advice from snobby girls like you," I turn away, repulsed and sulk into the corner, and plop down on a fluffy blue couch.

The door swings open with a loud BOOM. Patrice Lamn has just entered the train, followed by Heloise Eckhart, my mentor, victor of the 61th Hunger Games. Patrice inspects Oliver, her expression changes to disgust, and she walks away and plops down on the seat next to me.

"Hello, Autumn! Congratulations!" She says with a bright smile as she fluffs her green wig.

"Urm, thank you," I try to say with a straight face. I glance over by the door, Heloise is standing there, looking around confused. She makes a quick decision though, and sits down by Oliver and she begins to engage in conversation with him.

Hmm. It seems as though I've got the escort on my side, but not the mentor. I think that I'm going to have to change that.

**Heeey Guys! It's been such a long time! We couldn't get a chapter out for the past few days because we a SUPER busy with school work and on top of that, it is also homecoming week at our school. We'll try to post a chapter at least once a week though! For this chapter, josielynnt wrote Eric and Julia, and I wrote Autumn and Blake. Remember to vote for your favorite tribute on the poll on my profile and the mini contest from last chapter is still open, so if you guessed before you can guess again. To win the points (10) you have to guess the date of josielynnt's birthday. (For example if you wanted to guess the 7****th**** of May, you would send me a PM saying, 7) Thanks for reading guys, and keep those reviews coming! The feedback encourages us to write more!**


	22. Meeting the Stylists

_Sylvia Floyd POV_

"Time for a haircut!" a member of my prep team named Sevita says cheerfully. I grimace, but I don't stop her even though I love my long blonde locks. Sevita takes a silver pair of scissors, and begins snipping. Sevita gets a little too scissor-happy though, and before long, my hair is only a tiny bit below my chin. If it was straight it might look cute, but it's still curly and I look like an ugly man.

Before long, I can't help myself, "That's enough cutting," I say coldly. Sevita stops cutting, and moves towards my face slowly looking me straight in the eye.

"Listen, District 8," she says. "You know nothing about hair, but I do, so you better hush up if you don't want a pixie cut," She backs away, and resumes cutting. Funny. I thought Sevita could use some hair tips herself. Her hair is dyed a quite ugly shade of pink, and half of it is shaved off. She has several piercings, and tattoos. She has pretty blue eyes though._ Capitol people are sick. I wish they were all dead._

Before I was reaped, I most likely wouldn't think thoughts like this. But since the reaping, I've become a colder, darker person. I don't want to think of the past. My family and friends are gone. _Gone forever. _I miss them terribly.

Even my old boss Mr. Ardmore stirs a pleasant thought in my mind.

I let a few tears drip down my face and try to forget. Forget it all, so it will be less painful.

Serita stops cutting my hair and pulls a mirror up to my face.

"How do you like it?" she ask, but before I can answer, Serita says, "Not that your opinion matters," I clench my jaw and look into the mirror, my hair is extremely short and still curly, and it looks like I got ran over by one of the high speed capitol trains. Serita thinks she's good, but she's obviously is new.

"I got to call over Jadine, and Ciaran to finish you up, so get undressed before we arrive."

"Ciaran? Isn't that a man's name?" I ask uncertainly.

"Yep," Serita says unfazed by my comment. Then she waltzes out without another word.

I finger the cloth of my shirt in my hands. I know I'm supposed to, but I can't bring myself to remove it. It's my body, and I've never been naked in-front of a strange man before, and I don't plan on starting now. My prep team reenters laughing, but they immediately stop when they see my clothed body. Serita slowly walks towards me again.

"Didn't I tell you to undress?" Serita asks darkly.

"Yes. Yes you did." I reply calmly.

"So why are you still wearing clothes?" the woman behind Serita says. She must be Jadine.

"Because I'm not going naked in front of people I don't know, particularly a man," I say looking directly at Ciaran.

Ciaran is a young man, and he has light blue hair, and piercing blue eyes. _Just like Serita's. _

"I can leave!" yells Ciaran

"No you can't Ciary, dear," Serita says. "You need to learn so you can support your mama when she's old and fat!" _Ciaran is Serita's son?_

Jadine walks towards me, and tries to hold my hand, but I let go of hers. She's unfazed though and says, "I know you don't want to get undressed, but you need to take a shower, and if you'd prefer we won't come in the shower room with you,"

I consider this, and then nod. "Alright," I say.

Jadine clasps her hands together and lets out a huge whoop. _Funny. I was starting to like her, but the whoop just ruined it._

Jadine leads me to a small room, with only a shower in it. I showered on the train, and honestly I didn't like it too much.

Baths remind me of being home, being a small child. But my life is going to be gone in a matter of days.

_Annie Cord POV_

I stand in the stylist chamber, naked and shivering wet. My red hair falls in waves down my shoulders and a tear drips down my face. I let my hands come up to my face and I begin to really cry.

"Crying always makes it worse, you know," I hear a deep voice say. I quickly cover my body, and look up timidly. "I'm Fairfax, your stylist." Fairfax extends a hand, and I take it.

"Annie Cord," I say shaking his hand. He drops my hand and examines my bare body. I'm quite glad when he doesn't ask me to remove my hands from places I'd rather he didn't see. He comes up close to me, and fingers my red hair.

"You have beautiful hair," he says. I should say thank you, but I can't. My father always used to compliment me on my hair. I miss him terribly, probably the most of all.

"Get your robe on, so I can start to do your hair." I follow suit, glad to not be naked anymore, and wrap my body in the fluffy pink robe. "Sit on this chair," I sit on the chair reluctantly. For the last few hours, I have been spending my time getting hair ripped off my body. It was not a fun experience.

Fairfax dries my hair, and begins to style it in an elaborate braided up do. My hair forms a sort of crown and my head, and I feel beautiful. Fairfax holds a mirror to my head and says "How do you like it?" he asks.

"It's beautiful," is all I can say.

"I'm going to start applying makeup now, just tell me if anything is uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable it is, for the next half an hour, my face is smeared with powders, crèmes, and for lack of a better word, goops. Before long, I look like a completely different person, and I don't like it much. I want to be me, not someone else. But apparently, what I want is not what matters.

_Ivy Blood POV_

I lay on the metallic table with too luxurious of a cushion, feeling beyond irritated. For the past _three _hours I've been plucked, tweezed, teased, and painted. It took everything in my power not to explode all over them. I'm just glad Houghton didn't show up or I might have blown a fuse. The train ride was bad enough, seeing as he tried to have a conversation with me, so lying alone in this bare metal box isn't too terrible. I allow myself to think about Scarlet for a second, purposefully not letting the mental image of her tearstained face appear again, wondering if she's feeling better by now, laughing with her new family. Before I can even shake the uncomfortable feelings away, the door swings open and a dramatic looking woman with her violet hair teased up into a huge oval steps inside. An Avox follows her silently, not even looking at me. Red hot anger rises inside of me, and my eyes prickle. Terrible memories flash across my mind, but I don't rise. My stylist tosses her silky yellow shawl to the waiting Avox, not even acknowledging my presence yet. I watch with water filling my eyes as the Avox folds the shawl over her arm. She can't be more than twenty, and she's tiny. Her eyes don't even have enough emotion to be sad. They just look disconnected. To any Capitol citizen I'm sure she would have just looked daft, but I knew she was trying to shut out any thoughts that would give her pain. I jump when my stylist claps her hands loudly, finally spinning to me.

"Well alrighty then! Let's get started shall we? I'm Flute Digangi and I will be your stylist for the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" She throws her hands up and spins AGAIN. She smiles widely. I don't smile back.

"Okay, well, before I get started, I'm going to request some refreshments!" Flute turns away quickly to the Avox. "I need a pitcher of filtered water, another of that raspberry lemonade, and perhaps some of those lovely little cakes with the lemon or cherry fillings. Be quick, and bring my little satin apron. I don't want to get this little number dirty."

She says all of this without any thanks, any kindness. Flute doesn't even look at the girl half the time. She's too intent on smoothing her dress made entirely of neon dyed feathers, which is a complete monstrosity. The Avox nods mechanically, but doesn't move until Flute waves her off with a careless sweep of her hand.

"So! Stand up and let me get a look at you!" Flute squeals as the door shuts softly.

I don't want to stand and be her little dress up doll, but I remind myself grudgingly that it's all part of the plan.

"Oh yes! My design will look FABULOUS on you! Sometimes my genius surprises even me! I just have to make sure the measurements are perfect!"

With horror, I watch as she pulls a measuring kit from a nearby drawer, and then sticks her head out the door and waves her assistants back into the room. The man, Manuel, who has the fishnet like veil, and the woman, Aurora, who has the glittering tongue return both carrying large clipboards. Aurora wheels in a large board of some sort covered in a sheet. Manuel and Aurora then come to stand on opposite sides of the board, like obedient little slaves. I resist the urge to snort in disgust.

"Now, we all know how boring the tree theme can be for District 7 tributes, but this year I'm going to spruce that dusty old tradition up!"

I shiver.

Flute snaps her fingers and Manuel dramatically sweeps the sheet from the board, revealing large sketches. The dresses are green with green sparkly "leaves" layered one on top of another. The green leaves rise into branches that will surround our heads. It's like a tree, but all leaves and all green. Flute explains this all very quickly, practically skipping. She seems to think she's some sort of revolutionary for making trees _all green and all leaves. _I can hardly listen anymore. Just when I think I'm going to faint if I have to listen to Flute explain her designer intellect one more time, the door opens slowly. The Avox hurries in holding a giant platter with cakes piled high and a pitcher in one hand, and another pitcher in the other hand. Flute turns sharply, exclaiming, "WELL! That took you long enough!"

The girl becomes flustered, her perfect mask of nonchalance failing. The platter in her hand begins to shake, the cakes tilting dangerously.

"OH!" I gasp, leaping forward. I grab the platter and place a hand on her shoulder to steady her. The cakes tremble for a second, but then settle back as though nothing happened. The girl, however, still trembles. Her eyes are filled with pain and tears.

"It's okay…. It's okay…." I say, trying desperately to calm her down.

"IVY!" Flute snaps, her eyes flashing. Manuel has his hands to his lips in horror, and Aurora's are placed theatrically on her heart. I don't move.

"Ivy, do NOT touch her." Flute orders firmly. "She doesn't deserve your comfort."

I don't want to step away, but I need to. If I play my cards right, I can bring hope to all of them. I swiftly squeeze her hand though. She deserves more comfort than anyone.

We continue with our fitting as though nothing even happened, but my boiling blood indicates otherwise.

**Hey! It's been so long! It's been ten days since our last update! Ahhhhh! Sorry about that. It's partly because we're extremely busy, and also because we've been dreading writing the stylists for a long time. L For this chapter, I wrote Annie and Sylvia, and josielynnt wrote Ivy. Next up is the tribute parade chapter! **

**PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! REVIEW! If you review, it will increase the odds of your tribute surviving, not only because you get three points for each review, but also because we will generally favor people that review. Now for the mini contest!**

**MINI-CONTEST: For 5 points, guess the Hunger Games character!**

**She is a career tribute.**

**In the Hunger Games film, she was portrayed by Isabelle Fuhrman.**

**Only one guess per person, and you have to guess through PM!**

**Bye guys! Till next time,**

**torystory93, and josielynnt**


	23. The Tribute Parade

_Brynn Carver POV_

Blake and I stride into lobby outside the stadium, Blake trying to look manly in his huge purple toga. I snicker when he trips slightly, almost throwing his bronze shield forward.

"Smooth." I tease, as he glares at me. "By the way, you look ridiculous."

"Well you don't look much better princess." He snaps, but I can see his face twitching to hold back a smile.

Our stylists decided to dress us as "Ancient Greeks." Both of us are dressed in floor length purple togas, because according to our stylist, purple is the color of "royalty." A thick gold rope is tied around our waists and we both carry golden shields and swords. Our costumes aren't perfect, but they're undoubtedly way better than the rest. I look at Blake, preparing to send a zinger back his way, but he's obviously preoccupied, glancing behind him nervously and then straining his neck forward.

"What is with you?" I ask, tugging at his toga.

"Nothing!" He snarls back, shoving me away.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Brutus shoves us even further apart, muttering in disgust. "If you want to win this you need to make a good impression, got it?"

I roll my eyes and pretend I'm listening, but next chance I get I'm kicking Blake in the shin.

The lobby is filled with colors so blinding that I have to blink a couple times before I can focus. The main light is coming from District Five who's standing right in front of us in some sort of suit filled with a gel. The girl's gel is glowing pink, and the boy's is glowing green.

"Got it. Power." I say, nodding slightly.

Blake doesn't respond, and he's not even looking at their bright costumes. He is scanning the hall with laser focus, and it's starting to bother me.

"Blake. _Blake." _

Nothing.

I roll my eyes again and look at some other costumes. Melodi, the District Four girl, has a pretty greenish blue dress that reminds me of the ocean with fishing netting sown over it artfully. She also carries a trident and has a headband that looks like seaweed is entwined with her hair. The headband is kind of a fail but everything else looks unfairly good. Ky, her District Partner is looking fine in just a kilt of woven fishing net. His upper body is nicely toned, shiny, and I'm embarrassingly mesmerized. He also has a trident and seaweed looking cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He catches my eye and I wink flirtatiously at him. A little fun never hurt anyone.

District One looks pretty good too. Ruby has a silver glittering dress with a matching gold glittering cape that trails on forever. She also has a gold tiara with this ridiculously big diamond on the front. Jonny has a tight fitting gold glittering suit and….

Suddenly Blake sprints past me, stepping on my foot without meaning to. I watch as a blur of purple zooms past like a crazy tornado. In a second I'm streaking after him, my toga billowing incredibly.

"BLAKE! STOP!" I scream.

I can hear Enobaria and Brutus running after me too, yelling for Blake to knock it off. Tributes all around us are gasping or leaping out of the way. William Jones or whatever tries to jump out of the way and trips backward over his feet, but I'm too focused to enjoy that. Blake turns and his intention becomes clear. The District 9 entourage is clearly his destination, and Steve Hunnel, the man who killed his parents stands front and center. The District 9 tributes are dressed obviously as a waving clump of grain and they look absolutely stupid. But I can't think about how dumb they look now. I refocus. If Blake seriously injures one of them he'll get in huge trouble or seriously punished in the Games, which could end up punishing all of us. This stupidity could kill us all. I sprint, my legs bursting with exertion until I catch up to him. His sword is waving threateningly, but I know how to take him down. In a swift movement I'm upon him. I push him to the ground and crack his wrist back until the sword falls from his grip and I can toss it off away from his maddened attack. But I underestimate his strength, especially when he's determined. Blake tosses me off, but I snatch the sword out of his reach, jutting it out warningly at him. But that doesn't stop him. Instead he swivels and heads for District 9. The boy grabs the girl, pulling her behind him, but Blake isn't focused on them yet. He pummels Steven, knocking him backward.

"You filthy BAS***D!" Blake screams, obscenities and threats tumbling from his mouth. Steven is stunned at first, but he eventually pins Blake to the ground, obviously as gently as possible.

"LET GO OF ME! LET ME GO!" Blake howls, swinging at him madly.

"Good God son, what's gotten into you?" Steven asks, stupefied.

"THEY WERE MY PARENTS! THEY WERE MY PARENTS AND YOU KILLED THEM! NOW YOU'RE GOING TO PAY!"

Recognition appears of Steven's face and he looks sick. Before he can even respond, however, Blake pushes him up and punches him right in the face. Steven reels backwards and Blake turns on Eric and Autumn.

"Don't you even think about it." Eric snarls, stepping forward.

Blake grins manically and then dives towards him. I expect Eric to be easily beat, but he slams Blake against the wall viciously. Autumn is screaming something but I can't hear over all the noise. I realize that I've been so caught up in the action that I just let Blake go. I can hear my father's voice chastising me for losing focus. In a second I'm up and upon Blake. Eric turns to me, ready to attempt to take me down, but I wave him off and take hold of Blake, slamming him to the floor. He tries to throw me again, but I don't underestimate him again.

"What the HELL Blake?" I shout, shaking him angrily. Enobaria and Brutus reach us and hoist him to his feet, both shouting so loudly I can't even hear what they're saying. Brutus starts to yank Blake from the hall, and Enobaria turns to Steven Hunnel, who is on his feet again, a nasty bruise already forming on his cheek.

"I'm sorry for my tributes behavior. I can assure you it won't happen again." Enobaria sounds strained, as though she despises talking to anyone who isn't a career.

"Just keep him away from her, you understand!" Eric roars, his arm protectively around Autumn. He looks surprised at what he just said and colors immediately. I raise my eyebrow. Could there be a romance brewing here? I'd have to tell Blake if he ever is sane again, which is doubtful.

Enobaria sighs and nods slightly, then lopes away. Eric turns to me with visible effort and simply says, "Thank you."

I walk back to the District 2 chariot where Brutus has returned with a sullen Blake.

"We don't have any more time before chariot rides, but we will talk about this later." Brutus growls, shoving Blake into our chariot, guarding him carefully.

As I take my place, I can't even look at him, I'm so angry.

"I'm….I'm sorry Brynn." Blake mutters, fingering his gold rope. "He killed my parents."

I don't agree with him, but I can understand. Our chariot moves forward, pulling us into the bright arena.

_Issak Novien POV_

The stadium is filled with excitement tonight. Everyone is speculating on what the tributes will be wearing and Isobel is about to explode with excitement.

"OH MY GOSH ISSAK. I went to the Hunger Games annual pre-Games fashion show where they always hide hints towards the costumes in the outfits, so I think I have a pretty good idea on what they'll be wearing but I'm just SO EXCITED!"

"Isobel you NEED to calm down." Violette instructs, raising her vintage opera binoculars grandly. Two seconds pass and then she turns again, squealing, "Who am I kidding? I'm SO EXCITED TOO!"

"Ladies, Ladies! This squealing is going to break my ear drums." I joke, winking at them.

"Capitol Citizens! ARE YOU READY?" Caesar Flickerman's voice booms through the dome.

Cheers erupt, along with some glitter poppers. The sparkles rain down on all of us, and we cheer again, throwing our hands in the air.

"Give a big, warm welcome to your fearless leader, President Snow!"

The President strides out and takes his position in the President's box. The crowd positively roars, and he waves his hands modestly to quiet us.

"Welcome to the 67th Annual Hunger Games! Tonight, we will welcome our valiant tributes who serve our Capitol and strive to erase their ancestor's treason. They will be adorned in the finest work of our splendid designers. Now, I know you're all anxious to see them and cheer on your favorites, so without further ado, join me in our nation's anthem."

When the anthem swells to a finish, we throw our right hands into the air respectfully, singing wildly. Violette wipes away some tears at the end, and I have to hold mine back. What a beautiful nation we are privileged to inhabit.

The golden doors at the back of the stadium are magnificently thrown open, and the District One chariot charges out onto the purple carpet.

"And they're off!" Caesar booms.

The girl, Ruby Stride is wearing a marvelous floor length silver dress that glitters like a thousand diamonds, and has a matching golden cape. She also wears a golden tiara with a huge diamond in the front. Her blonde hair is twisted in beautiful braids that tumble down the golden cape. Johnny Landcaster, Landcaster's son, is wearing a tight fitting gold glittering suit with a silver glittering cape and has a matching silver crown with diamond accents on all the points.

"Well, District One has certainly come in with a bang! Just look at that attention to detail! They look like glittering diamonds, of course representing District One's luxury item production. May I remind all of you that you will have a chance to bid on these outfits at the after party?"

Isobel shrieks in pleasure.

"Ooooh…. I want these already!" She scribbles down notes frantically on her program.

"Look! Here come the District Two tributes!" Violette gasps, shaking my arm.

The District Two tributes have majestic purple togas with golden rope tying at the waist. They carrying bronze shields and swords, waving them threateningly at the crowd with straight, sullen, strong faces. They both have crowns of golden leaves on their heads.

"District Two is representing their District as Ancient Greek warriors, and don't they look stunning? I'm just completely in awe! Obviously Ancient Greeks were very skilled with creating weaponry, so that represents District Two's masonry industry." Caesar comments.

"OH! Ancient Greeks! So cute! I love the headpieces!" Violette comments, making a note. "Can you buy just an accessory of an outfit?" She asks.

"Oh yes I think so. Remember Claudia made off with that District Three girl's shoes last year and she ended up being the victor. That was quite a lucky buy for Claudy!" Isobel says knowingly.

"And here come the District Three tributes, looking fantastic while representing the technology they provide for us! Look at THAT!"

Both District Three tributes have bodysuits, the boy's green and the girl's blue. The District Three emblem with the gears and factory are projected by hologram from their chests, and glowing threes adorn every other inch of fabric. It is completely ingenious. I rise to my feet, clapping vigorously. Isobel crinkles her nose at me.

"What?" I ask.

"They're incredible, but not something I'd want to buy." She answers promptly.

"Oh Izzy, come on! Enjoy yourself and for once don't think about buying something!" I respond, laughing. Izzy can be such a shopaholic sometimes!

"Well…. OH MY!" Isobel gasps, forgetting what she was about to say. I follow her gaze and see the District Four tributes emerging in fabulous looking outfits. Melodi's dress is gorgeous and flows like an ocean wave, and Ky looks like a warrior. Their tridents gleam sinisterly.

"Looks like the audience thinks the District Four outfits are the _catch of the day!_" Caesar cackles at his own joke, and the audience groans endearingly. Caesar has really been cranking out those puns lately.

"Dear I absolutely NEED that outfit!" Isobel squeaks, excitedly circling District Four in her program a million times.

"Well you're going to have to outbid me!" Violette exclaims.

As they squabble over who will get the outfit, I watch District Five roll by in glowing gel suits.

"Wow! Those District Five tributes sure look _powerful!_" Caesar can barely even get through his pun this time, he's laughing so hard.

Autumn Alvey wears a gel suit glowing pink and a matching headband, while Oliver wears the same in green, and with a band circling his head. Although the costumes are simple, the glow practically illuminates the whole arena.

Next the District Six tributes move in. They are your typical train conductors in striped white and blue uniforms but they have smoke stack on top of their heads. Every couple of seconds, they yank on a string and smoke billows from the mouth.

"Look at that!" I hoot, finding it oddly funny. Violette looks at me strangely which only makes me laugh harder. I can hardly even pull myself together, but when I see the District Seven tributes I have to sit up and watch the procession.

The District Seven tributes are great big trees, except all green leaves! No bark in sight! Amazing! I love how the leaves sparkle and shine under the lights. Ivy looks extremely grumpy, but she waves to the crowd slightly.

"I never want them to _leaf!"_ Caesar shouts, voice shaking with mirth.

"Oh Caesar…." Violette sighs, shaking her head.

Unfortunately for Caesar, the District Seven tributes do _leaf, _and the District Eight tributes take their place. The District Eight girl, Sylvia has a tight, fitted bodice riddled with expertly sewn in jewels of all colors. The dress balloons out from about waist to mid-thigh, covered in intricate designs and then slowly curves back in, layers of flowing fabric covering her feet. It's such a display of the District Eight work in the textile industry, and Adler's is just as good. It's a vest adorned with jewels and on the back they form a multi-colored Capitol seal. The pants match the elaborate design on Sylvia's skirt, and I have to say it's a slam dunk.

"Goodness I love both outfits for this district! I'll have to go for these as well, and maybe I can alter the men's to fit Albain." Violette exclaims.

"Albain again! I thought you two were done!" I remark.

Violette rolls her eyes, responding, "You have to keep up with the times darling!"

District Nine follows District Eight, but for a moment I couldn't even tell there were people in the chariot. Both tributes look like stalk of waving grain, and a tiny hole reveals their faces. Without the hole, they would be invisible. I can't tell what the fabric is, but it is astonishingly realistic.

District Ten is quite a sight to behold.

"Good Heavens!" Isobel cries out, giggling.

The District Ten tributes are full on cattle, but every black spot is heavily bedazzled. They have lifelike cow heads that fall across their faces when they lower their heads even the slightest bit. The tributes look so ridiculous it hard not to laugh.

"Looks like District Ten is on the MOOVE!" Caesar doesn't even sound tired after all this puns.

District Eleven emerges wearing plain white robes that spill out of the sides of the chariot and flow out behind them. The robes are pretty to look at, but the real showstopper is their headdresses. Both tributes have towering domes of fruit and vegetables stretching at least a foot into the air. It's an incredible sight, and I circle it on my program. Those headdresses would be fun to hang in my room to revel in the memories of these games.

Finally, the District Twelve tributes roll out in the traditional, boring coal miner outfits. Both tributes wear overalls that have been liberally covered in the glittery black dust that also covers their faces and hands.

"Ugh…. Why do they even try?" Isobel sniffs, examining her nails that have long feathers glued to the tips.

Caesar begins to call out his ending remarks as the tributes take their places below President Snow's box. The President looks down on them and waves gallantly.

"Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

**Hey everybody! This is josielynnt here and I wrote this entire chapter for you! I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to review and give us some feedback. Also, don't forget to vote for your favorite tribute in the poll on torystory93's bio. The winner of the mini contest for Chapter 22 was EverlarkClato4ever! And now…. For this chapters mini contest! If you guess this tribute, then you will receive five points! Please submit your guesses through PM. Any guess submitted through review will not be counted. Here are your clues:**

**1. This tribute dies on the first day of the Games in the first Hunger Games book and movie.**

**2. In the movie she was played by Mackenzie Lintz**

**Bye for now!**


	24. The Sad Story of Steve Hummel

_Steven Hunnel POV_

I sit in the quiet of my room, trying desperately to fall asleep. It's late, nearly 3:30 in the morning, but nothing I do can erase the images of Blake Dylans charging my tributes, ready to kill them for what I did. Finally I slide off the smooth Capitol sheets and head for the couch in the living room. A large television is available, but I can't bring myself to turn it on. I just don't want to. I want to be free of the guilt but I'm powerless to do anything other than sit still. A couple Capitol magazines are decoratively arranged on the glass coffee table, and at this point I'm willing to do anything for distraction. If I can't bring myself to simply turn on the T.V. this will have to do. I soon discover that the theme of all these magazines is the upcoming Hunger Games, Blake's face, Autumn's, and Eric's blown up and displayed lavishly among the other tribute's. I flip the page in disgust, but don't put it down. It's like an accident that you can't look away from. I flip and flip, nothing catching my eye until I see my own face staring back at me.

_MEET THE MENTORS!_

**_ Will District Nine Victor Steven Hunnel be leading his tributes to glory? This is the question on every citizens mind! Steven won the 48_****_th_****_ Annual Hunger Games when…._**

The magazine is thrown to the ground and I stand, walking away, wanting to get as far from those memories as I can. But they catch up with me anyway.

_The wind is cold, and the sky is overcast and gray. Rumblings of thunder warn us of a storm coming. My fingers tighten around my bowin nervous preparation. The Feast is today. There are five of us left, me, the two from District 2, the District eight girl, and the District three boy. I got here first, the pack already slung around my shoulders. Crouching in the brush, I watch attentively. District 2 is the first to arrive. I see Danny appear over the hill, his sword glinting, face stony. Daria is nowhere to be seen, but I'm sure she's lurking nearby as back up. I prepare my first arrow, sizing him up. My hand's shake in the terror of what I'm about to do. Danny appears before me, just a few feet away and I leap from the brush, reassessing my target and firing in seconds. My first arrow d_

_oes not quite hit my mark, but it stuns him enough for my second to land wickedly accurate. Danny's brown eyes have life for a few seconds, gazing at me in horror, his strong, powerful demeanor gone. Then they become distant, and he falls shaking. My head rolls, and nausea sweeps through me. I'm crying before I can stop myself. Then I hear the screams. A high shrill note of pure horror. Daria races from the forest, her pretty face contorted in pain. She carries a sword, but it is hung down in defeat. Still, I weakly swing my bow back, but then put it down, lowering my head. When I'm not killed immediately I look up and see her standing still, not being defensive or offensive. She is done. That much is clear to me. With a pain like nothing else I've ever felt in my heart, I fire again. Daria doesn't make a sound. With efforts she brings herself to Danny's side and places her head on his chest. The cannon is deafening. I sink to my knees, sicker than I've ever been._

On the victory tour I saw Blake for the first time. Just a little baby. I couldn't finish the speech. The repercussions of my actions on myself were bad enough, but now they will effect Autumn and Eric. I can still see Danny's eyes.

**Hey guys! So this is a pretty sad little chapter, but we wanted to get something out there for you all so you know were not abandoning you! Currently three fourths of Training Day One is completed, but Tory can't get on my Mom's computer to finish because she's having technical difficulties L So we decided I (josielynnt) would write a mini chapter! Don't forget to vote for your favorite tribute on the poll on torystory93's bio and PLEASE review. We love all your feedback and encouragement. Also, thank you for not badgering us about updating. Unfortunately we've been really busy but we always try to use what ever writing time we get. We love writing for you guys! We have the best followers! AND NOOW…. FOR THE MINI CONTEST! This one is a big pointer so you want to participate. Look up "Everything Wrong with the Hunger Games" on Youtube and tell us what "sin" number 43 is! There is some bleeped out language but if you're not down with that ya know… Don't watch. Please PM us your answer and the winner will receive…. (drumroll) 15 SPONSOR POINTS! WHOOOO! Get to it!**


	25. Training-Day 1

_Ruby Stride POV_

The first thought that crosses my mind as I wake is, _Training. Training is today. _I immediately perk up, stretching my arms. I've been waiting for this moment since I found out what the games are.

_Finally. The moment where people will find out how lethal I really am. _I climb out of the warm bed, and quickly dress in the training clothes laid out for me. A pair of tight-fitting black pants, and an even tighter black tank top. I pull my blonde hair into a messy bun and silently hope I look sexy. Looking attractive won't hurt my chances of gaining male allies. That boy from two is definitely a looker despite his rage at the tribute parade last night.

_No,_ I think. I remember Ashley's final words to me, "_Just don't do anything stupid like join the career alliance, okay?"_

_But maybe it isn't stupid. Maybe joining the careers would help my chances. _ I trudge down the hallway into the kitchen, and inhale the deep, delicious smell of the capitol food. I run to grab a plateful, but before I get too far I hear a deep voice behind me.

"Hello," I whip my head around and I see him. _Johnny. _I don't even know why the hell he volunteered, so he could be killed by his own father? He dips his spoon into some sort of gross mush, and judging by its look, it's the grossest thing the capitol spread out for us to eat.

"Hello," I say in a mocking voice. "What do you want?" He doesn't look particularly strong, and I doubt he'll make it past the bloodbath. If he tries to ally with me-

"I'd like to form an alliance with you and the others from the career districts." _Yep. There it is._ I'm about to give him a flat out no, but then I remember, _his father is the head gamemaker. Surely he wouldn't try to kill his own son. That would mean no mutts, no killer storms, no fires…_

"Yes," I say. "Yes, I accept."

_Julia Lamberson POV_

The door of the training center clicks open, and I waltz in, trying to look as confident as possible, even though my hands are shaking. Logan stands beside me, his face stony and expressionless as usual. Once he rejected me on the train, I realized that it was a lost cause.

When we enter the center, I'm amazed by the size of the place. I'm surrounded by different stations, all containing a skill that might help us in the games. My eyes instantly gravitate towards the weapons stations, knowing that they will probably help me the most in the games.

I've never held a weapon before in my life, besides the occasional kitchen knife, so I don't have high hopes for my odds in the games. I never have.

I glance around, training starts in ten minutes, but even so, there are only five other tributes here. I recognize the tributes from District 2, including the brutish boy who went nuts last night at the parade. I observe the girl from six, glancing around nervously, finger-combing her hair over and over again. Standing next to her is a tiny little boy from seven biting his nails nervously glancing at Blake again and again. Standing totally separate from the group is the girl with the beautiful red hair from District 3, with a look of pure terror on her face. She wears a thick pair of black glasses, which make her look very intelligent. The head trainer, Atala is pacing around the room, muttering to herself.

I catch bits and pieces of her words, "Honestly…first day of training…only seven tributes here," The minutes pass in agony, and Atala even has to call the District 5 suite to tell them to get up.

Finally, when everyone arrives, Atala goes through the rules, and reads off the list of available stations. I'm not listening though, I'm too busy sizing up my opponents. Most of the tributes are at least five inches taller than me, reinstating the idea that I'm going to die at the bloodbath. Once Atala dismisses us, my feet shuffle around nervously, unsure of where to go. So many different stations… I want to be standing around pointlessly, so I go to the nearest station which just happens to be knife throwing.

The trainer greets me enthusiastically, and begins to explain how to throw a knife. About five minutes later, the only thought in my head is… _Aim, step back, and throw._

I stand about twenty yards away from the dummy, and prepare to throw the knife. My hands are shaking, and I can't hold the knife properly, but I know that I only have three days to train. _Three days to death._ I hold the knife near my head like the instructor told me to. I close my left eye tightly and throw the knife with all my might. I miss the target by about two inches, and the small knife clatters to the ground. I hear a snort, and I whip my head around to see Brynn, the girl from District 2, with an amused look on her face. The trainer begins to give Brynn the spiel about knife throwing, but Brynn just pushes her aside, and picks a knife off the holder. With expertise that can only come from years of training, Brynn throws the knife, and it hits the target. _Dead center._ The trainer begins to praise Brynn for a job well done, but Brynn pays no attention.

Instead, she smirks at me and says, "Good luck trying to actually hit the target, ten," and with a flip of her black hair, she's gone. So am I. I abandon the knife throwing station, my hands still shaking from my encounter with Brynn, and start to head over to archery, but I stop when I see Ky expertly wielding a bow and arrow. I turn around, wanting to avoid any more encounters with the career tributes.

Sooner or later, I find myself at the spear station. To my surprise, the first time I throw the spear, I hit the dummy in the arm. I smile, and a burst of energy flies through my body, encouraging me to try again. I look behind me to make sure that no one else is throwing spears so that I can retrieve my spear.

Once the spear is back in my hands, I run back to the line and throw the spear yet again. It hits the dummy in the abdomen, and I smile much brighter this time.

_Maybe I do stand a chance in these games…_

_Melodi Kemp POV_

I swing the trident and send it straight into the dummy's chest. Then with one swift toss I engulf it in my net. Next, I grab the ends, pull them up, and tie them tightly. The dummy lies pathetically at the bottom and I toss the bundle to the side. The trident has one of those automatic net shooters which can be helpful in combat, but I prefer to not be lazy in training. Ky grins at me and air applauds teasingly. I stick my tongue out at him childishly as I reluctantly replace the shiny trident in its holder. It's time to work with some other weapons.

As I walk over to the bow and arrow station, the blonde girl named Ruby from District One hurries up to me, waving along the brooding Landcaster kid.

"Hey. You look pretty handy with these weapons." Ruby comments, looking at Johnny for support.

"It's sort of jumping the gun, but we want the career pack to be even stronger this year." Johnny says, folding his arms across his chest. His muscles aren't huge, but they still bulge slightly. Enough to get me to notice. It makes me think of Xander, which makes me ache, so I shove that away. It's time to focus.

"We were wondering if you'd like to join us. We'll be asking Ky too. You guys have some really valuable skills and you seem like good people." Johnny adds, Ruby nodding vigorously .

I try to keep my face straight. We all knew from the get go we were going to be allies, and I can see that District One thinks they're going to take charge. We'll see about that.

"Sounds reasonable." I reply. "Who else are you asking?"

"Both from two, but we'll all have to keep an eye on that Blake kid. Then Ky also." Ruby rattles off the names, glancing around the training room.

"Who has said yes?" I ask.

"You're the first we've asked. We'll approach the rest after we get your answer." Johnny says, pointedly requesting my decision.

"I think that will work for both me and Ky. I'll go talk it over with him and get back to you in a second." I reply, deciding I want to be the one to talk with Ky. Career alliances are a good strategy until everyone starts turning on each other. Ky will have to be my most trusted ally, but even that won't last forever if I want to get back to Xander. There can only be one victor.

Ky is standing at the bow and arrow station. He's not extraordinary, but he's not a disaster either. Ky learns things very quickly, so the training center is like his own little playpen. Once he picks up a skill he frolics over to the next station and learns that just as easily. It's actually kind of annoying.

"Ky! Come over here!" I call.

"What's up?" He asks, wiping his sweaty face with his shirt.

"Ruby and Johnny just came up to me and asked if we were interested in an alliance. It will be with Brynn and Blake too if they say yes."

"Well no surprise there." Ky comments, wiping his face again. "Do we really want to get all mixed up with them?"

"If we don't we'll be instant targets. They'll be really offended and they'll treat us like everybody else in the games: one more target to shoot down. If things start to get dicey then we'll have a good excuse to leave, but rejecting them right now would be reckless. We don't need any more enemies."

"I know. I just don't trust them. Especially after Blake going all haywire last night. But I get that we need to ally with them. My answers yes." Ky answers.

"Great. Remember, we can always leave!" I tell him, hoping I know what I'm doing here.

_Autumn Fields POV_

Why am I enjoying myself? That might be the sickest thing I've ever thought in my whole life. Here I am, training to go into an arena of almost certain death and I'm actually not miserable. I blame him.

Eric stands next to me as I nock my next arrow. I've never used a bow before, but for some reason I really connect with it. So far it's the weapon I'm best at using. The carnage of my first attempts lies scattered around the floor surrounding the target, but one can see the progression from bow novice to a skilled wielder. The arrows rise in precision until my almost bull's-eye. This is going to be the best shot yet. I can feel it.

I bring the bow up and pull the taught cord back, shutting one eye gently. The target seems to zoom up closer so I can perfectly adjust my shot. When I release the bowstring, my arrow flies straight through the air, and strikes the bull's eye exactly. I let out a gasp of happiness and turn back to face Eric. He's smiling from ear to ear.

"See! I knew you could do it!" He cries, taking me into his arms.

Eric's body is strong and comforting. I've known him for exactly a day now and I already feel so close to him. After I pulled the Simple Serenity from the wall and turned to look at him, I just knew he was special. And that's what makes it the hardest. I keep wishing like crazy that there's a way for us both to make it home. Together. I get a rising feeling in my chest, imagining us returning to District Nine, finally able to release all the weird Hunger Games tension that slightly separates us. Then my stomach sinks when I come back to reality. It sinks even further when I see Blake's crazed face from last night. He looked so angry, so ready to rip us apart. I understand how broken he is because of his parents death, but Eric and I had nothing to do with that. I can see Eric checking on his whereabouts during training, or ushering me away if he gets close to the station we're working on. Blake seems hell-bent on getting revenge, and I don't want to have him so opposed to us during the Games. It's terrifying.

Pressing my face into Eric's shoulder, I will myself not to cry. That's ridiculous behavior in this setting. Careers will either laugh or get annoyed, and in general I don't want anyone assuming I'm weak.

"That was great Autumn!" Eric congratulates me, pulling away. His hands slip into mine, and we drop them quickly. We both know this can't actually work out, no matter how much we want it to.

"Your turn." I say smiling, handing him the bow.

"I think I might need a bigger size….." He holds the bow up, tiny in comparison to his bulky body.

I laugh and watch as he heads back to the rack, shuffling the bows around. As I glance around the room my eyes fall on Melodi, Ruby, and Johnny in a little cluster. They seem to be in an intense conversation, and Ruby keeps sticking her head out quickly to see if anyone is watching. _Of course…. They're forming the Career alliance. _Melodi nods and then walks purposefully over to Ky. It's obviously begun.

"What's wrong?" Eric asks, making me jump. He carries a lethal looking bow that's at least twice the size mine was.

"Melodi was just talking to Ruby and Johnny. I think the Careers are already teaming up. They're really on top of things this year." I say, trying to make light of the situation.

Eric doesn't laugh. He looks like he's thinking. Finally he says, "Do you want allies?"

I think for a moment, but I already know what my answer will be.

"I guess it's a little too soon to decide officially but… I don't want allies. Except for you. In Games like these I can't trust a group of people. Of course I haven't met everyone here but I'm sure the only one I trust is you." I reply, blushing a little bit. "I mean, if you want to be my ally."

This all felt like a weird warped version of asking someone to be your friend or go out with you. But this wasn't regular old life…. This was the Hunger Games. I had to constantly remind myself that at the end of this "field trip" I would be thrown into an arena where most everyone was intent on killing me.

"Of course I want to be your ally. That was the plan from the start." Eric smiles back at me.

The first night on the train I pulled him in to my cabin, requesting an alliance. Maybe that was a crazy move since I had barely had more than a two sentence conversation with the guy, but I needed a friend or someone to trust. I needed to know I had plans, that some part of these Games were organized in my favor. I lucked out with Eric.

I want to hug him again, but I just continue to smile, my heart overflowing with love, fear, and the uncertainty of it all.

_William Issac Jones POV_

My sweaty fingers grasp the humongous sword, leaving the spongy handle slick with moisture. The dummy in front of me seems to be mocking me, and I feel like everyone's eyes are on me. I can see Melodi Kemp, Ruby Stride, and Ky Finnegan all watching me from the right and I'm painfully aware of Blake Dylans breathing down my neck. I'm really not comfortable being anywhere near Blake, especially after his freak out last night, but it can't be helped. The trainer is staring at me, eyebrows raised. It's time to go. I watched Blake and Ky go before me, so I know what I should be doing. Executing it is the issue.

I awkwardly swing the heavy sword around my head like Ky did, but I almost hit myself so I have to jump out of the way, nearly falling _again. _Ruby snorts from two lines over then runs forward wielding her sword expertly. In two skilled swoops the dummy is headless and sliced in half. I feel sick.

"Um James? Let's go!" Blake yells. I almost drop the sword.

"It's actually Jones." I call reflexively. A second later I clap my hand to my mouth. "I mean… urm James is okay to, though!"

Blake just looks at me in disgust.

"Whatever just go!" He yells, rolling his eyes.

I nod, smiling to hide my terror. I lift the sword again, which is now completely soaked with my sweat, and swing it uncomfortably. Then I run at the dummy like Ruby did and shove the sword into the dummy's stomach. Unfortunately I was a little too excited and pushed it in too hard, because as I go to yank it out the sword stays put. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and put my foot on the dummy's legs so I can get a better angle to pull it out. After what seems like an hour of pulling, I succeed- in falling backwards on to the floor with skill that can only be acquired from years of practice. For a while I just lay there with my eyes closed, trying to pretend this is just a horrific nightmare. I finally open them when Blake crosses the floor and easily rips the sword out, throwing it next to me in disdain. I pick it up and slowly cross the floor in shame to put the sword back.

_You just had to go and screw up again Will. You just had to do this. This isn't just some stupid little game, this is the HUNGER GAMES. You can die. _

I throw the sword in the rack without looking up. I don't want to see anyone laughing or worse, trying to pretend like nothing happened. I know everyone is wondering why I volunteered. The fact that my own father forced me to go to my death is too much for me to handle right now. I head for the survival skills area, fighting back tears. The only weapon I was semi-successful with was the dagger, but what good will that be? Unless I become a wiz at close combat in two days I'm done for.

Once I get to the knot tying station, I sit and mechanically create all the knots I know with ease. It's repetitive and makes me look like I'm being productive but takes up none of my brain power so I can let my mind wander. It's weird having my sister as my mentor. Today she told me to try out all the weapons I can so that I can figure out which ones I actually am competent with. She also said, "Don't screw up like you always do Will. I don't…. You shouldn't…. I don't want you to die…. On my account." It was weird. Like she actually cares deep down. But it's too late. I've already failed her and it's only day one. Now no one will want to align with me.

The blonde girl from District Six named Jennifer comes and tentatively sits down next to me at the station. I glance at her quickly and I'm surprised to see that she's not actually scowling at the moment. She really looks kind of nice. After looking down at my knot for a couple seconds, I try to sneak another peek, but when I do she's looking right at me. Her eyes are like the melted chocolate I tried at dinner last night, and I can feel my cheeks getting warm as we both hastily focus on our knots.

For a couple minutes I focus on knotting the ropes and fabric, totally focused on myself of course, but I can't help but notice that Jennifer is completely incompetent with knots.

"Hey…. Um…. Would you like some help with that?" I ask, automatically flinching like she was going to reject me.

For a second I think she's not going to answer. She just stares at her jumbled knot like she's trying to decide something.

"It's okay! You don't have to I was just trying to help because I'm actually pretty good at this you know I don't really know why actually I must have read about it somewhere and practiced but I just can't remember that particular instance because…." I start to ramble.

"I'd love help." Jennifer interrupts, smiling for what must be the first time since we got to the Capitol.

I take her knot in my hands and untangle the disastrous mess quickly. Jennifer watches closely as I teach her the figure eight knot, her hands eventually replacing mine, expertly tying the rope. For a while as we laughed and talked on the rope tying mat, I could almost forget about where we were, and what we were tying these knots for.

_Logan Whyte POV_

_Clunk. Clunk. _I can't help grinning when I watch my knife hit the target over and over again.

I turn around to see the trainer, Alexis, patting me on the back.

"Great work, uh um, what did you say your name was again?"

"Logan. Logan Whyte,"

"Great," Alexis says. "Now, why don't you try it again?" I follow suit, and the knife lands just outside the bulls eye, making it the best shot I've ever thrown. I turn around slowly to see if anyone was watching, and I'm a bit disappointed to see that no one is. It would be nice to have some allies. I know I kind-of blew any chance of alliance with Julia, after my behavior on the train, so I decide to look for someone else.

I run my fingers through my dark brown hair, and glance around. I see the boy from District 11, Michael Nakato, at the edible plants station. He looks pretty nice, and even though he tried to run away at the reaping, I think that he'd probably make a good ally. He has strong arms, most likely from farming, and his eyes tell me that he's been through a lot, just like me.

I walk over to the edible plants station, trying to look as friendly as possible. I plop down across from Michael, and begin to sort the plants into piles of edible and non-edible. Michael looks up at me with a sort of terrified expression on his face.

"Hello," I try to say as pleasantly as possible. Michael doesn't say anything, but he starts to breathe quickly, and he looks like he's about to vomit. I figure that it's now or never so I ask, "I was wondering if maybe you would want to make an alliance, or work together or something?" I know I shouldn't have said it the moment it came out of my mouth. Michael starts to breathe even harder, and I lean over to pat his shoulder to try and make him calm down.

As soon as Michael sees my hand coming over, he stands up, and mumbles something that strangely sounds like, "I have to vomit," He stands up quickly, and walks over to a different station. I frown, and begin to feel extremely angry. _How dare he? I was just trying to be nice. Little kid won't last seconds into the games. _I stalk over to the knife station, glad to be able to do something that helps me blow off steam. Something, unlike trying to make friends, that I'm good at.

_Bruce Windsoar POV_

The axe makes a violent _clunk_ as it buries itself deep in the dummies chest. I don't even bother to go and yank it out. I'm sick of this weapon stuff. Even though the dummies are just thick fabric and foam I can't stop imagining what my strikes would do to a real person and it's too painful to keep at it for long. The survival stations are much better on my psyche. They even have a small inventions table where a tribute has to practice assembling contraptions out of random objects. I know I should actually be attempting to learn new things that will help me stay alive, but I need a break. I fiddle with some scrap metal, wood, a paperclip, and a thin piece of twine, watching the activity of the room. Tributes leap across obstacles brandishing swords, bows, tridents, you name it. There's just simple target practice, high tech arenas with holographic opponents, a strength and endurance center equipped with a machine called a treadmill that gives you unlimited ground to run on and weight lifting. The girl named Abrianna from District 11 is on one of the treadmills, running like there's no tomorrow. Her eyes were focused straight ahead at nothing in particular, her face stony and still in concentration. She doesn't even look tired. I get the feeling that she will never give up, and if possible just run forever.

The dark haired boy from District 12 named Dan comes up beside me, glancing at the station.

"What is this one?" He asks, watching me scrape the metal against a piece of wood to sharpen it.

"The inventions table." I respond, slightly annoyed that someone is disturbing my process.

"What are you making?" Dan questions, peering at my pile.

"Well I'm crafting a make shift spear. It's really easy." I say, showing him the sharpened wood. "You can make one just sharpening a big stick enough or you can twist the metal, heat it into a correct size and shape, then fuse it with a sturdy stick or tie the whole thing to a stick with some twine or rope. It really depends on what you have available and what your purpose is." I say, demonstrating.

"Wow…." Dan finally replies. I'm not sure if he's impressed at what I came up with or if he's impressed at how weird I am.

"That's really resourceful. Are you good at this sort of thing?" He asks, surprising me.

"It's kind of my whole life. I once spent seven hours working on blueprints!" I admit, wishing I could draw my words back as soon as I said them. The plan was to not let people know anything about me.

Dan just nods thoughtfully, looking around the center.

"Hey, want to head over to the edible wildlife station?" He asks. "I mean, if you're done with that."

I'm not, but I'd rather make friendly connections with people now than tinker around and isolate myself.

"Sure." I say, and we walk over the station. We pass the endurance area and Dan waves to Abrianna, the running girl.

"Dan!" She calls. "Where are you guys going?"

"Wildlife stuff station." Dan replies.

Abrianna holds up a hand to halt us then slows her pace steadily until she's walking. Then she hops off and wipes her damp face and hairline with a handy nearby towel.

"I'll come with you. I can't just run the whole time." She says, sounding unhappy. "I'm Abrianna Restuc, District 11." She holds her hand out, and I shake firmly.

"Bruce Windsoar, District 6."

"Nice to meet you Bruce."

Abrianna seems nice enough, not as stony or hard as she appeared on the treadmill. It makes me wonder what was going on in her head. She seems to enjoy running, but her face looked anything but joyful on the treadmill. She must have been thinking of something that hurt her.

The trainer at the edible wildlife station points at a projected screen, explaining what is safe to eat and what is not. Some plants will be fine to eat, some will upset your stomach or cause a fever which could possibly be fatal, or some will kill you instantly. I try to commit every plant to memory, studying the different shapes and colors. Once the instructor is done, he hands us each a box of life like plastic models of the plants.

"You need to determine the name of each plant and whether said plant is poisonous, potentially fatal, or safe. You each have different items in your box. Form a line and I'll assess you one by one." The instructor sits in a chair and Abrianna, Dan, the Paul kid from District 7, Adler Fresk from 8, and I form a line. I'm number three in the line. Hastily, I begin pull the models from my box, naming the ones I know and organizing them into the three categories. I can hear Abrianna muttering the names with ease to the instructor and Paul behind me, obviously utterly lost. Dan is next, and he too seems to be getting them mostly right. It takes him under two minutes. Am I the only one besides Paul who is struggling with this? Suddenly I find myself standing in front of the trainer, who stares at me in this cold, calculating way that makes me freeze instantly.

"Urmm..." I shuffle my piles around until I see shockingly red berries and my brain snaps back into place.

"These are Nightlock. They will kill you almost instantly." I say, confidence restored. I'm not as quick as Abrianna or Dan, but I finish with minimal error.

"Nice Bruce!" Dan high-fives me, grinning.

Abrianna smiles too, but doesn't allow anymore approval. I get it. This is the Hunger Games. I suppose that should have made me feel let down, but as we all walk away together to the computer game version of the edible wildlife game at the same time, I feel like a trio, like we're unified, and that's good enough for me.

_Jennifer Lake POV_

I'm still shaking when I slide into the elevator. _What the hell just happened? _I want to be angry but I just can't, not at him. I can't get the boy out of my head. My whole body trembles when I think of his piercing blue eyes, and his striking red hair.

We spent the whole day, just working on knots and talking. I highly doubt tying knots will help me much, but all I wanted to do was stay with him. _William Jones_. At one point, he touched my shoulder, and my whole body just froze. The feeling of love has been completely absent from my system for many years. I've never really loved anyone, but something about this boy, William, brought that feeling back to life.

I can't love him though. I can't. I came here to die, not fall in love. I try to convince myself of this over and over again, but I can't. Something about William gives me the feeling that I have something worth living for.

**Hi everyone! For this chapter, josielynnt wrote William, Melodi, Autumn, and Bruce and torystory93 wrote Julia, Ruby, Jennifer, and Logan. We are so sorry for the wait! School and activities are time consuming but we love writing for you and every chance we get we work on this! Don't forget to vote in the poll on Tory's bio for your favorite tribute and PLEASE review! We love seeing your feedback. Things are starting to get interesting, and we're excited! AND NOW….. FOR THE MINI CONTEST! This is another big pointer so you want to participate. We're trying to show you guys some of our favorite Hunger Games videos so the next contest is like the last sort of. So on Youtube look up "The Hanging Tree" by Mainstaypro then tell us what young Katniss first practices shooting at with her bow and arrow. It's long but totally worth your time! And the winner receives….. 15 SPONSOR POINTS! Also, congrats to ZazzyZ for winning the last contest! Alright, all for now! Hope you enjoyed the First Day of Training. **


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